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THE WORKS
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
THE WORKS
BEAUMONT & FLETCHER;
THK TEXT FORMED FROM A NEW COLLATION OF THE EARLY EDITIONS.
AND A BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR
BY
THE REV. ALEXANDER DYCE.
IN ELEVEN VOLUMES.
VOL. VII.
WOMEN PLEASED. I TUE CHANCES.
THE WOMAN'S I'RIZK. 1 MONSIEUR THOMAS.
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
513870
LONDON : EDWARD MOXON, DOVER STREET.
MDCCCXI.IV.
LONDON : BRADBURY AND EVAMS, PRI.-JTERS, WHITEKRIARS
PR
l)f
y.7
WOMEN PLEASED.
VOL. VII.
TFonien plcas'd-
In the folios 1647, 1C79.
The second folio adds " A Tragy-comedy."
Women Pleased was, in all likelihood, wholly composed by Fletcher. The date of its first production on the stage has not been discovered.
Th;it part of the play which relates to Belvidere and Silvio after the banishment of the latter, may be traced to Chaucer's Wif of Bathes Tale, — rather than to the ballad of Tlie Marriage of Sir Gawalne, which Percy thought might have furnished Chaucer with the tale in question, but which Tyrwhitt regards as less ancient than the time of Chaucer.
AVhat I subjoin concerning the poet's obligations to Boccaccio is bor- rowed, with several omissions and alterations, fi'om Weber's observa- tions on this tragi-comedy.
The last scene of the second act is founded oq the Sixth Novel of the Seventh Day with no considerable variation. ' Isabella, the wife of a rich and valiant Florentine knight, was enamoured of the young Leonetto, and at the same time besieged by the importunities of Lambertuccio, whom she much disliked, but whose threats induced her to promise a compliance with his desires. Her favoured lover had joined her, by invitation, at a country-house, duiing the absence of her husband ; but their happiness was soon disturbed by the arrival of Lambertuccio, and she was forced to conceal Leonetto behind the bed-curtain. Lambertuccio had not been long with his mistress when the unexpected return of the husband was announced to them. By Isabella's advice, Lambertuccio drew his poignard on the husband's approach, and muttering imprecations against the coward who had shielded himself in the house from the effects of his wTath, mounted his horse, and departed. Isabella then informed her husband, within hearing of the concealed Leonetto, that a youth had taken shelter in the house, pursued by Lambertuccio. Leonetto now issued from his hiding-place, and related that he had been attacked by Lambertuccio, who either must be a madman, or else had mistaken him for some other person. The easy husband, praising the humanity of Isabella, kept Leonetto to supper, and afterwards set him on one of his /own horses, and escorted him to Florence.'
Tlie fourth scene of the third act is taken from the Eighth Novel of the Seventh Day. 'Arriguccio Berlingliieri, a rich old merchant, thought to ennoble his family by marrying a young lady named Sismonda. She indulged her passion for a young gentleman called Iluberto ; but, as they were rather indiscreet in their amours, the old husband became extremely jealous. In order to enjoy the coinpatiy of
B 2
hex* lover securely, she was obliged to have recourse to a stratagem. She every night festened to her great toe a string, which, passing from under the bed-clothes and along the floor, hung out of the window, nearly down to the ground. This string Ruberto was directed to pull : in case her husband was asleep, she would let it go ; but, if he was awake, she would hold it firmly. One night Arriguccio perceived the string, and, suspecting some trick, took it from his wife's toe, and tied it to his own. Soon after, the lover arrived, and gave the accustomed sign. The husband rose, and, arming himself, went to the door. Ruberto fled, while Arriguccio pursued : at last they closed ; but, the neighbours inter- fering, the latter returned to his house. Sismonda in the mean time awoke, and guessing the cause of her husband's absence, called her maid, and by promises of a large reward prevailed upon her to take her place. She then put out the candle, and retired. When Arriguccio returned, he beat and kicked the maid in the cruellest manner, and, having cut off her hair, proceeded to the dwelling of his \yife's three brothers, and poured forth his complaints of her infidelity. The brothers were greatly enraged against Sismonda, and accompanied Arriguccio to his house, their mother following, and entreating them not to be too hasty in condemning their sister. By this time Sismonda had dressed herself, and arranged the bed ; and they found her occupied in sewing. She feigned the utmost surprise at the violence and uproar of their arrival, shewed that she had not been beaten nor had lost her hair, and accounted for her husband's mistake by declaring, that, in one of his usual fits of drunkenness, he had been maltreating some courtesan in a bagnio. The anger and threats of the brothers were now turned against the poor husband, who from that hour never ventured to quarrel with his wife.'
The third scene of the fourth act is copied, but not closely, from the Eighth Novel of the Eighth Day — a tale of such a nature as to forbid its abridgment here.
According to the Biographia Dramatica, this play was revived at Drury-lane theatre about the beginning of the eighteenth century, but without success.
I have only to add, that the second scene of the fourth act of Ravens- croft's London Cuckolds, 1682, (a drama which, though contemptible as a composition and grossly immoral, yet kept possession of the stage for a very long period,) was suggested by the last scene " of the second act of Women Pleased.
« In a note ad. 1. (in ed. 177fi) Reed says inaccurately, " This scene was afterwards iutro- duced by Havenscroft," Sic.
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
Duke of Sienna,
Bartello, captain of the citadel at
Florence. SiLviOj his nephew. Claudio, brother to Isabeixa. Soto, his servant. Lopez, a jeweller. Penurio, his servant. A Farmer, father to Soto. BoMBT, a cobbler. A Captain. Soldiers.
Gentlemen.
Two Boys.
Lords, Counsellors, Clerk, Morris- dancers, Masquers, and Attendants.
Duchess of Florence. Belvidere, her daughter. Rhodope, wife to Bartello. Isabella, wife to Lopez. Jaquenet, servant to Isabella. Gentlewomen.
Scene — Florence, and the adjacent country.
The pri7icipal actors ivere-
Josepb Taylor. John Underwood. Robert Ucntield. RicUai'd ishaipe.
John Lowiii. William Egglestone. Nicholas Toolie. Thomas Holcombu.
WOMEN PLEASED
ACT I.
SCENE \.— Florence.— Before the Citadeli -^
Enter Bartello and Silvio.
Sil. 'Tis true, she is a right good princess, and a just one, And Florence, when she sets, has lost a planet.
Bart. My mistress ^ ? I tell thee, gentle nephew, There is not such another friend to goodness, To downright dealing'', to faith, and true heart, Within the Cln-istian confines, ^^-^fore she blessM us, Justice was a cheesemonger, a mere cheesemonger, Weigh'd notlimg to the world but mites and maggots, And^ a main stink ; Law, like a horse-courser'", Her rul'.s and precepts hung wrth gauds and ribbands. And pamperM up to cozen him that bought her, . When she herself was hackney, lame, and fountler"'dJ
Sil. But the sweet lady Belvidere, the bright one
Bart. Ay, there 's a face indeed : oh, my dear nephew, u'Could a young fellow of thy fiery mettle Freeze, and that lady in his arms ?
Sil. I think not.
Bart. Thou hast a parlous '^ judgment ; but let that pass :
" mislress] A txus^llable here, as in act ii. sc. .3, and in several other passages of these plays.
•' To dotvnriyht dealing, &:c.] Sympson, disliking the rhythm of this line, silently gave it with the following ridiculous alteration, —
" To downright dealing, faith, and a true heart ".
' horse-courser'] i. e, horse-dealer.
'' ■parlous] "i. e. keen, shrewd [a corruption oi perilous]." Wkbek.
8 WOMEN PLEASED. [act i.
She is as truly virtuous, fair, and noble,
As her great mother 's good ; and that 's not ordinary.
Sil. But why, so many princes, and so great ones, Being suitors, should the duchess deny to match her ?
Bart. She is a jewel, man, hangs in her bosom ; Her only child : with her eyes she sees all things, Discourses with her tongue ; and, pluck her from her, (So dotingly the old one loves her young one) You pluck her heart out too : besides, of late days, The Duke of Milan, who could never win her By love nor treaty, laid a close train for her . In her own private walks, some forty horse-menj; So to surprise her ; which we found, and dealt with, And sent 'em running home to the duke their master, Like dogs with bottles at their tails. )
Sil. Since that, I heard, sir, She has sent her to your citadel to secure her. My cousin Rhodope ^, your wife, attending her.
Ba7~t. You hear a truth ; and all convenient ^ pleasures Are there proportioned for her.
Sil. I would fain, sir, Like one that owes a duteous service to her, Sometimes, so please you
Bart. Gentle cousin, pardon me ; I must not, nor you must not dare to offer : The last edi^ct lies on his life pursues iti Your friend, sir, to command abroad, to love you, To lend you any thing 1 have, to wait upon you ; But, in the citadel where I stand charg'd.
«= My cousin Rhodope, &c.] " Sympson complains that there is a mighty jumble throughout this play between 'cousin' and 'aunt'. Had he attended to it, he had found a similar jumble, as he terms it, in all the ancient plays, particularly in those of Shakspeare. In Hamlet, Claudius calls Hamlet his cousin, though his nephew and his step-sou. In Romeo a7id Juliet, Lady Capu- let calls her nephew Tybalt her cousin. And in Richard III., the old Duchess of York goes still farther, for she calls her grand-children, the sons of Clarence, her cousins. In short, the word counin was foi-merly applied to any degree of consanguinity, except that of brother and sister." Mason.
' conve7iient'} i.e. fit, suitable.
SCENE I.] WOMEN PLEASED. 9
Not a bit upon a march, no service, sir,
No, good sir, by no means : I kiss your hands, sir. [ Exit.
Sil. To your keeping only ? none else to look upon her I None but Bartcllo worthy her attendance I No faith but his to serve her ? ^h, Belvidere, Thou saint to v^hom my youth is sacrificM, Thou point to which my life turns and my fortune. Art thou lock'd from me now 1 from all my comforts Art thou snatcliM violently ? ? Thou hear'st me not, Nor canst thou see, fair soul, thy servant's mourninofs ; Yet let thy gentle heart feel what is '' absence. The great divorce of minds so truly loving. So long, and nurs'd in one affection,
Even from our infant eyes suck'd in, and nourish'd
Oh ! let it feel but that, and there stand constant. And I am blest ! My dear niece i Rhodope, That is her governess, did love me dearly ; There 's one hope yet to see her : when he is absent. It may be ventur'd, and she may work it closely J.
^ from all my comforts
Art thou snatch' d violently ^'\ " Sympson says that Silvio was not lamenting the hidy's condition, but his own ; and therefore wishes to read — * from me all my comforts Are they snatch'd violently ? ' But the truth is, that he is lamenting the fate of both, as he knew that she suffered from separation as much as he did. The word ' violently ' shews that he considered her as snatched from him against her will." Mason.
•• is] Both the folios " his " ; and so Sympson, though he proposed in a note the obviously-necessary alteration " is ".
' yiiece.} So the first folio. — The second folio "aunt" ; and so the modern editors. — The term tiiece applied to an aunt (and, if it be not used as a synonyme, equivalent to — kinswoman, relation) is found in very early writers. So in Lay
le Frainc ;
"* Leman,' he said, 'thou must let be
The abbesse thy niece, and go with me." Spec, of Met. Romances, iii. 294, where Ellis says "it should be 'thy aunt\"~ See too p. 20 of this drama. — If Malone had read the present play in the first folio, he would not have ventm-ed to assert that " niece, besides its ordinary meaning, was used to signify only grand-daughter " : see his note on .Shake- speare's Tivo Gentlemen of Verona, act iv. sc. 1. (where, however, he rightly condemns the reading,
" An heir and niece allied unto the dukej." ' closely] i. e. scci'etly.
10 WOMEN PLEASED. [act i.
I know the lady'^s will goes equal with me,
And so the danger of the cdi'ct avoided :
Let me think more ; for I must try all hazards.
Enter Claudio, and Soto icith a ladder. Soto. Will you go yonder, sir ? Clau. Yes, marry, will I, sir. Soto. And by this ladder ? Clau. By that ladder, coxcomb.
Soto. Have you any more necks at home when this is broken ? For this will crack with the best friend he has, sir : Or can you pitch of all four, like an ape, now ? Let me see you tumble.
Clau. You are very pleasant, sir, Soto. No, truly, sir ; I should be loath to see you Come fluttering down like a young rook, cry squab., And take you up with your brains beaten into your buttocksj Clau. Hold your peace, ass.— Who's this stands musing here? Silvio ?
Sil. Who calls me ? Clau. One most glad to see you, sir. Sil. My dearest Claudio ! what make you thus private. And with a preparation of this nature I
Soto. We have leave to play, and are going to climb birds'
nests. Sil. Prithee, what is it, friend ? why start you from me ? Ls your old mistress grown so coy and cruel, She must be scalM ? It seems you are loath to tell me : Since twenty years' continuance of our friendship May not be worth the weight of such a secret, 'Twill be but rude to ask again. 'Save you ^ ! [Gol7ir/.
Clau. Nay, stay, dear Silvio : if you love me, take it ; For, till you know it, never woman labour'd As I do now.
Sil. I '11 do my best to ease it.
Clau. You have heard, the lady Belvidere
i" 'Save i/ou\ Silently altered by Sympsou to " so suvc ye."
SCENE I.]
WOMEN PLEASED. H
SiL What heard, sir ?
C/aif. Heard, to the cit3jdt4, upon some fears, She is confin'd.
Sil Why dreams he on this beauty ?— [Aside.
'Tis true, I have heard it.
Clau. And that no access, No blessing from those eyes, but with much hazard,
Even hazard of a life
Sil. He dares not love her ! — [Asid".
I have heard that too : but whither points your purpose ? Clau. Oh, Silvio, let me speak that none may hear me, None but thy truth ! I have lov'd this lady long, Lon» given away my life to her devotion. Long dwelt upon that beauty to my ruin. Sil. Does she know this ? Clau. No ; there begins my misery : Ixion-like, I have only yet clasp'd clouds, And fed upon poor empty dreams that starve me. Sil And what do you mean to do now ? Clau. Though I die for 't. Though all the tortures in the world hung on me, ArmM with imperious love, I stand prepar'd now With this to reach her chamber ; there to see her. And tell her boldly with what truth I love hei\
Sil. 'Twill not be easily done, sir
Clnu. Oh, my Silvio, The hardest things are sweetest in possession ! Sil. Nor will shew much discretion. Clau. Love is blind, man ; And he, that looks for reason there, far biiniLr. Sil. Have you consider'd ripely i Clau. All that may fall. And ann'd against that all.
Sil. Her honour too i NVhat she may suffer in this rash adventure ( The beauty of her name ? Clau. I ""U do it closely,
And only at her window, with that caution
Sil. Are there no iruards I
12 WOMEN PLEASED. [act i.
Clau. Corruption chokes their service.
Sil. Or do you hold her bred so light a woman, To hold commerce with strange tongues ?
Clau. Why, this service, This only hazard of my life, must tell her, Though she were Vesta's self, I must deserve her.
Sil. I would not have you go ; pray, let it sink here, And think a nobler way to raise your ser\ace, A safer and a wiser.
Clau. 'Tis too late, sir.
Sil. Then I must say, you shall not go.
Clau. I shall not !
Sil. 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.
Sil. I '11 stretch it farther : The honour that I bear that spotless virtue You foully seek to taint, unnobly covet, ^ /
Bids me command you stay ; if not, thus force you \\
[Draics his sivord.
Soto. This will be worse than climbing.
Clau. Why do you draw, sir ?
Sil. To kill thee, if thy base will be thy master.
Clau. I ever was your friend.
Sil. Whilst thou wert honest, And not a night-thief of another's honour: I never callM a fool my friend, a madman, That durst expose his fame to all opinions, His life to unhonest dangers ; I never lov'd him. Durst know his name, that sought a virgin's ruin ; Nor ever took I pleasure in acquaintance With men, tliat give as loose reins to their fancies As the wild ocean to his raging fluxes : A noble soul I twin with, and my love Follows his life dares master his affections. Will you give off, or fight I
Clau. I will not fight with you ; The sacred name of friend ties up that anger T^- Rather 1 '11 study ^^
SCENE II.] WOMEN PLEASED. 13
Sil. Do, to be a friend still.
Claii. If this way, I shall never hold.
Sil. I '11 watch you ; __,
And, if I catch you false, by Heaven you die for 't, •^- AU love forgot ! ""^
Clau. When I fear that, I jm fit for 't. •
[Exeunt, on one side, Silvio, on the otlier Claudio and Soto.
SCENE II. — A room in the house of Lopez.
Lopez discovered sitting at a table with Jewels, and mone.y ujmi it ; V fU^yj an egg roastinc[^^ a candle. Lopez. Whilst prodigal young gaudy fools are banqueting, And launching out their states^^ to catch the giddy. Thus do I study to preserve my fortune, And hatch with care at home the wealth that saints me. Here 's rubies of Bengala, rich, rich, glorious ; These diamonds of Ormus, bought for little. Here vented at the price of princes' ransoms ; How bright they shine, like constellations ! The South-sea's treasure here, pearl, fair and orient, Able to equal Cleopatra's banquet ; Here chains of lesser stones for ladies' lustres. Ingots of gold, rings, brooches, bars of silver : These are my studies to set off in sale well, And not in sensual surfeits to consume 'em. — Tlow roasts mine egg ? he heats apace; I '11 turn him. — Penurio ! where, you knave, do you wait ? Ponurio,
You lazy knave !
Enter Penurio.
Pen. Did you call, sir I
Lopez. ^Vhere's your mistress? What vanity holds her from her attendance ? , /
Pen. The very sight of this e^fg has made him cockish ;' What would a dozen butter'd do ? [Aside.] — She is within, sir
Lopez. Within, sir ! at what thrift, you knave I what getting!
^stales] "i.e. estates." VVr.UKR.
.i
J
14 WOMEN PLEASED. [act i.
Pen. Getting a good stomach, sir, an she knew where to get meat to it ; She is praying heartily upon her knees, sir, That Heaven would send her a good bearing' dinner.'
Lopez. Nothing but gluttony and surfeit thought on. Health flung behind ! had she not yesternight, sirrah. Two sprats to supper, and the oil allowable \ Was she not sick with eating ? Hadst not thou ^(Thou most ungrateful knave, that nothing satisfies)
The water that I boiPd my other e^gg in, _^To make thee hearty broth ? Fen. 'Tis true, I had, sir ; But I might as soon make the philosopher's stone on't : You gave it me in water, and, but for manners' sake, I could give it you again in wind, it was so hearty : I shall turn pissing-conduit"' shortly. — My mistress comes,
sir. y-^ Enter Isabella.
Lopez. Welcome, my dove !
Isab. Pray you, keep your welcome to you, Unless it carries more than words to please me. Is this the joy to be a wife I to bring with me, Besides the nobleness of blood I spring from, A full and able portion to maintain me ? Is this the happiness of youth and beauty. The great content of being made a mistress, To live a slave subject to wants and hungers, To jealousies for every eye that wanders, Unmanly jealousy ?
Lojjez. Good Isabella
Isah. Too good for you : — do you think to famish me, Or keep me like an alms-woman in such raiment, Such poor unhandsome weeds ? am I old, or ugly I I never was bred thus ; and, if your misery
' bearing'^ i. e. solid, substantial : see GifFord's note on Massinger's Works, iii. 594. ed. 1813. So afterwards in this play (act iii. sc. 2) Peuurio says, " the full fat dish now, The hearing dish, is that I reverence." ■" pissing-conduit] See note, vol. vi. 143.
. iNE II.] WOMEN PLEASED. 15
W^ill suffer wilful blindness to abuse mc,
My patience shall bo no bawd to mine own ruin.
Pen. Tickle him, mistress: to him ! [Aside to her.
Isab. Had you love in you, Or any part of man
Pen. Follow that, mistress. [Aside to Iter.
Isab. Or had humanity but ever known you, You would shame to use a woman of my way thus, So poor and basely. You are strangely jealous of me : If I should give you cause
Lopez. How, Isabella !
Isab. As do not venture this way to provoke me
Pen. Excellent well, mistress ! [Aside to her.
Lopez. How 's this, Isabella ?
Isab. 'Twill stir a saint, and I am but a woman, And by that tenure may^
Lopez. By no means, chicken ; You know I love you : fie, take no example By those young gadding dames (you are noted virtuous) That stick their husbands' wealth in trifles on 'em, And point 'em but the way to their own miseries : I am not jealous, — kiss me, — [faith] ", I am not : And for your diet, 'tis to keep you healthful (Surfeits destroy more than the sword) ; that I am ciirfful Your meat should be botli neat and cleanly handled. See, sweet, I ani_cook myself, and mine own cater".
PeJi. A [pox]P of that cook cannot lick his fingers !
Lopez. I '11 add another dish ; you shall have milk to it ; 'Tis nourishing and good.
Pen. ^Vith butter in 't, sir I
Lopez. This knave would breed a famine in a kingdom ! — And clothes that shall content you : you must be wise then, And live sequesterM to yourself and me. Not wandering after every toy comes 'cross you. Nor struck with every spleen i.— What 's the knave doing? Penurio !
» [failh] A break here in both the folios.
« cater] i. e. caterer. p [po.r] A break here in both the folios.
1 spleen] " i. e. humour or c.-iprice." Wkiii:k. Nares {Gloss, in v.) biijs
16 WOMEN PLEASED. Iact i.
Pen, Hunting, sir, for a second course of flies here ;j v They are rare new sallads. "''^
Lopez. For certain, Isabella, This ravening fellow has a wolf in 's belly :
Untemperate knave, will nothing quench thy appetite ;
I saw him eat two apples, which is monstrous.
Pe7i. If you had given me those, 't had been more monstrous.
Lopez. 'Tis a main miracle to feed this villain. — Come, Isabella, let us in to supper. And think the Roman dainties at our table : 'Tis all but thought. [Exit xcith Isabella.
Pen. Would all my thoughts would do it ! The devil should think of purchasing that egg-shell, To victual out a witch for the Burmoothes ''. '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 that 's but transitory, i [ E.xit.
SCENE III.— Before the Citadel.
£wi«r,SQTO dressed in CLArmo's clothes., icitJi a ladder. Soto. Can any living man, unless a rascal That neither knows himself nor a fashionM gentleman, Take me for a worse man than my master now ? I am naturally proud in these clothes : but if pride now Should catch a fall in what I am attempting i 'Tis but a proverb sound, and a neck broken, That 's the worst can come on 't ; a gentleman ""s gone, then, A gentleman o' the first house % there 's the end on 't.
that " spleen " in the present passage " seems to mean any sudden movement of the mind." — Seward proposed to read " sheen " ! !
■■ the Burmoothes'] — or Bermoothes, — i. e. the Bermudas, which were long supposed to be the haunt of evil spirits : see notes of the commentators on Shakespeare's Tempest, act i. sc. 2. — The " egg-shell " was, of course, to serve as a vessel for " the witch " to sail in to those islands.
' A gentleman o' the first house] Again in Fletcher's Jfomans Prize, or the Tamer Tamed, act iv. sc. 1, we find ;
" Mor but to be made a whim-wliani,
I
SCENE in.] WOMEN PLEASED. 17
My master lies most pitifully complaining, A\jnnging^^iid^cldng3j_p_to tjb in love yonder,
And^sudi .a lamentable noise he keeps, it kills me : I Jiaye got his clothes, and, if I can get to her By hook or crook here, such a song I 'll sing her ! I think I shall be hang\l ; but that 's no matter : What 's a hanging among friends ? I am valiant now As an elephant : I have considered what To say too. Let me see now : this is the place ; 'Tis plaguy high : stay ; at that lower window Let me aim finely now, like a good gunner ; It may prove but a whipping.
Enter Silvio. Sil. I saw somebody Pass by me now, and, though it were dark, methought yet
I knew the clothes. — Ha ! let me not be cozenM
The ladder too, ready to fling it ! monstrous ! 'Tis he, 'tis Claudio ! most voluptuous villain. Scandal to woman's credit ! Love, I forget thee —
[Drmcs a pistol.
Soto. What will he do i' the name of Heaven ? what 's that
there? \^AsifIe.
Sil. And all the friendship that I bore thee, bury here
Soto. What has he in 's hand ? I hope but a cudgel. [Aside.
A jib-crack, and a gentleman o' the first house.
For all my kindness to her
Petron. How you take it ! " &c. In a note on the passage of our te.\t, Weber gave with great confidence a very erroneous explanation of "a gentleman of the first house"; but, in a note on the lines just cited, he confessed himself puzzled. The expression answers to the French " gentilhomme de ville ", which Cotgrave rcndei-s " a gentleman of the first head, an upstart gentleman."
Compare the following passage of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, net ii. 8C. 4, which has not hitherto been rightly understood ; " a duellist, a duellist ; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and secoml cause " ; i. e. a duel- list, a duellist ; a gentleman of the very first rank (alias, an upstart fellow), who understands all the terms of the duello, and prates about tlie first and second cause on which quai'rels may be grounded. Stccvens was certainly mistakcMi in supposing that " a gentleman of the very first house " meant a gentleman of the first rank among duellists.
VOL. VII. r
18 WOMEN PLEASED. [act i.
Sil. Thy faults forgive, oh. Heaven ! Farewell, thou traitor ! [Fiy^es.
Soio. I am slain, I am slain ! \_FalIs.
Sil. He 's down, and dead, dead certain, (It was too rash, too full of spleen,) stark dead : This is no place now to repent in ; only. Would I had given this hand that shot the pistol I had miss'd thee, and thou wert once more Claudio ! \_Exit.
Enter Claudio.
Clau. Why should I love thus foolishly, thus desperately ? And give away my heart where no hope 's left me ? Why should not the true counsel of a friend restrain me I The devil's mouth I run 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 ray will. Oh, Love, thou god, or devil. Or what thou art, that plays the tyrant in me — -::r
Soto. Oh!
Clau. What 's that cry ?
Soto. A surgeon, a surgeon. Twenty good surgeons !
Clau. 'Tis not far from me ; Some murder, o' my life !
Soto. Will you let me die here 1 No drink come, nor no surgeon ?
Clau. 'Tis my man, sure, His voice ; and here he lies. — How is it with thee ?
Soto. I am slain, sir, I am slain.
Clau. Slain ! who has slain thee ?
Soto. Kiird, kiird, outright kill'd.
Claii. Where 's thy hurt ?
Soto. I know not ; But I am sure I am kill'd.
Clau. Canst thou sit up, That I may find the hurt out ?
Soto. I can sit up ; But, nevertheless, I am slain.
SCENE III. J WOMEN PLEASED. 19
Clau. 'Tis not o' this side.
Soto. No, sir, I think it be not.
Clan. Nor o' this side. Was it done with a sword ?
Soto. A gun, a gun, sweet master.
Clau. The devil a bullet has been here ; thou art well, man.
Soto. No, sure, I am kill'd.
Clau. 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 yet I am afraid I am slain.
Clau. Stand up, fool : Thou hast as much hurt as my nail. Who shot thee? A pottle or a pint ?
Soto. Signior Silvio shot me, In these clothes taking me for you, and seeing The ladder in my hand here, which I stole from you. Thinking to have gone to the lady myself, and have spoke for you.
Clau. If he had hit you home, he had serv'd you riglit, sirrah. You saucy rogue ! — How poor my intent shews to me. How naked now, and foolish ! {_Aside.
Soto. Are you sure he has not hit me? It gave a monstrous bounce.
Clau. You riss of* your right side. And said your prayers too ; you had been paid else : But what need'st thou a bullet, when thy fear kills thee ? Sirrah, keep your own counsel for all this; you'll be hang'd else, If it be known.
Soto. If it bo by my means, let me. I am glad I am not kill'd, and far more gladder My gentleman-like humour 's out ; I feel "'tis dangerous, And to be a gentleman is to be kill "d twice a-week.
Clau. Keep yourself close i' the country for a while, sirrah : There 's money : walk to your friends.
• riss of] i.e. rose on : see notes, vol. iv. 7, 97, vol. vi. 135. So thr first folio. — The second folio "rose o'" ; and so the modern editors.
C 2
20 WOMEN PLEASED. [act ii,
Soto. They have no pistols, Nor are no gentlemen, that 's ray comfort. \_Exit.
Clau, I will Retire too, and live private ; for this Silvio, Inflamed with nobleness, will be my death else ; And, if I can, forget this love that loads me, At least the danger: and, now I think on't better, I have some conclusions' else invite" me to it. \^Exit.
ACT II.
SCENE I.— Before the Citadel
Enter, severally, Rhodope and Silvio,
Rhod. Nephew !
Sil. My dear aunt !
Rhod. Would you go by thus slily^^ And never see me I not once send in to me, Your loving niece ""' l she that, above all those I call my kindred, honour'^d you, and plac'd you Nearest my heart ?
Sil. I thank you, worthy cousin "■ ; But such at this time are my occasions
Rhod. You shall not go yet ; by my faith, you shall not ; I will not be denied. Why look you sad, nephew ? /i
Sil. I am seldom other. — Oh, this blood sits heavy !V—
[_ Aside. As I walk'd this way late last night, In meditation of some things concern'd me
Rhod. What, nephew 1
' conclusions] i. e. experiments.
" invite'] Both the fohos "mvites."
» niece] See note, p. 9. So the first folio. — The second folio " aunt " ; and so the modern editors.
* cousin] See note, p, 8. So the first folio. — The second folio "aunt"; and so the modern editors.
SCENE i] WOMEN PLEASED. 21
Sil. Why, methought I heard a piece, lady, A piece shot off, much about this place too, (But could not judge the cause, nor what it boded,) Under the castle-wall.
lihod. We heard it too ; And the watch pursu'd it presently, but found nothing, Not any track.
Sil. I am right glad to hear it : The ruffians surely that command the night I Have found him, stript him, and into the river IConveyM the body. [Aside.
Rhod. You look still sadder, nephew. Is any thing within these walls to comfort you ? Speak, and be master of it.
Sil. You are a right courtier ; A great professor, but a poor performer.
Rhod. Do you doubt my faith I you never found me that way (I dare well speak it boldly) but a true friend.
Sil. Continue, then.
Rhod. Try me, and see who falters.
Sil. I will, and presently : 'tis in your power To make me the most bound man to your courtesy.
Rhod. Let me know how, and, if I fail
Sil. 'Tis thus, then : Get me access to the lady Belvidere, But for a minute, but to see her ; your husband now Is safe at court ; I left him full employM there.
Rhod. You have ask'd the thing without my power to grant you ; The law lies on the danger : if I lov'd you not, I would bid you go, and there be found, and die for 't.
Sil. I knew your love, and where there shew'd a danger How far you durst step for me ! Give me a true friend, That, where occasion is to do a benefit. Aims at the end, and not the rubs before it. I was a fool to ask you this ; a more fool To think a woman had so much noble nature To entertain a secret of this burden :
22 WOMEN PLEASED. [act ii.
You had best to tell the duchess I persuaded you, That 's a fine course^ and one will win you credit ; Forget the name of cousin, blot my blood out, And, so you raise yourself, let me grow shorter. A woman-friend ? he that believes that weakness, Steers in a stormy night without a compass.
Rhod. What is ''t I durst not do might not impeach you I
Sil. Why, this you dare not do, you dare not think of.
Rhod. 'Tis a main hazard.
Sil. If it were not so, I would not come to you to seek a favour.
Rhod. You will lose yourself.
Sil. The loss ends with myself, then.
Rhod. You will but see her ?
Sil. Only look upon her.
Rhod. Not stay ?
Sil. Prescribe your time.
Rhod. Not traffic with her In any close dishonourable action '' I
Sil. Stand you yourself by.
Rhod. I will venture for you : Because you shall be sure I am a touch'd friend \ ,
I '11 bring her to you. Come, walk ; you know the garden a\ And take this key to open the little postern ; There stand no guards.
Sil. I shall soon find it, cousin y. \^Exeunt.
SCENE ll.—At the gate of the Citadel.
Enter two Soldiers. First Sold. Is the captain come home ? Sec. Sold. No : who commands the guard to-night ? First Sold. I think Petruchio. Sec. Sold. What's the word ?
* acHonI So the second folio. — The first folio " actions " ; and so Weber. " a touch'd friend] i. e. a friend who stands the test.
> cousin'] See note, p. 8. So the first folio. — The second folio "aunt"} and so the modern editors.
SCENE III] WOMEN PLEASED. 23
First Sold. None knows yet.
Sec. Sold. I would this lady were married out o^ the wayonce, Or out of our custodies ! I wish^ they woiild^^ take in more
companies, For I am sure we feel her in our duties shrewdly^ I
First Sold. ""Tis not her fault, I warrant you ; she is ready for 't ; And that ""s the plague ; when they grow ripe for marriage, They must be slipt ^ like hawks.
Sec. Sold. Give me a mean wench ! No state-doubt lies on her, she is always ready.
First Sold. Come, to the guard ; 'tis late, and sure the captain Cannot be long away.
Sec. Sold. I have watch'd these three nights ; To-morrow they may keep me tame for nothing. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.— The garden of the Citadel
Enter Silvio. Sil. This is the place, I think. What light is that there ? The lady and my cousin ?
Enter Belvidere, and- Rhodope with a light.
Bel. Is this the garden ?
Rhod. Yes, madam.
Sil. Oh, my blessed mistress*', Saint of my soul !
Bel. Speak softly : take me to you ; Oh, Silvio, I am thine, thine ever, Silvio I \_Thn/ emhrace.
Rhod. Is this your promise, sir? — lady, your honour? I am undone, if this be seen, disgrac'd, Fain under all discredit.
Bel. Do you love still I De^f, do you keep your old faith ?
' slipi] i. e. let loose.
' mistress'\ To be read a.s a trisyllabic : boo note, |). 7.
24 WOMEN PLEASED. |actii.
Sil. Ever, lady ; And, when that fails me, all that's good forsake me !
Ilhod. Do not you shame ? — Madam, I must not suffer this, I will not suffer it : men call you virtuous ; What do you mean, to lose yourself thus ? — Silvio, I charge thee get away, charge you retire you ; I '11 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.
Rhod. As you respect me, as hereafter, madam, You would enjoy his love — Nothing prevail with ye ? I '11 try my strength, then : get thee gone, thou villain,
[Struggles with him. Thou promise-breaker !
Sil. I am tied ; I cannot.
Rhod. I 'll ring the bell, then.
Sil. Ring it to death, I am fixM here.\
Enter Bartello, and tico Soldiers with torches.
Bart. I saw a light over the garden-wall ^, Hard by the lady''s ^ chamber : here 's some knavery : As I live, I saw it twice.
Rhod. The guard, the guard there ! — I must not suffer this, it is too mischievous.
Bart. Light up the torch : 1 fear'd this. Ha ! young Silvio ! How got he in ?
First Sold. The devil brought him in, sure ; He came not by us.
Bart. My wife betwejajJ^j^J^ustjing ! Guard, pull him off.
Rhod. Now, now, ye feel the misery.
Bart. You, madam, at an hour so far undecent ! Death o' my soul, this is a foul fault in you !
'' ffarden-tvall] The folios "garden walke " and "garden walk ". ■^ lady's] Happens (o be apelt "ladies "in both the folios; and so the modern editors !
LNEiv] WOMEN PLEASED. 25
Your mother's care abus'd too ! — Lights '' to her chamber ! — I am sorry to see this.
Bel. Farewell, my Silvio, And let no danger sink thee.
Sil. Nor death, lady. [^Exeunt Bfxyidere and Ruodope.
Bart. Are you so hot I I shall prepare you physic Will purge you finely, neatly ; you are too fiery : Think of your prayers, sir, an you have not forgot 'em. Can you fly i' th' air, or creep you in at key-holes I I have a gin will catch you, though you conjurM. — [Take him to ^uard jtojiigh^, to^Uong.and sure guard : I '11 back to the duchess presentlyTj-No less sport serve you. Than the heir to a dukedom I play at push-pin there, sir ? It was well-aim'd ; but, plague upon 't, you shot short, And that will lose your game.
Sil I know the loss, then. [Exeunt.
SCENE lY.— A street.
Enter Claudio, disguised as a merchant. Clau. Now, in this habit, may I safely see How my incensed friend carries my murder ; Who little I imagined 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. It must be so, it is so.
Enter Penurio. What, Penurio, My shotten*' friend, what wind blew you ?
Pen. Faith, 'tis true, Any 8trong^\\jnd. wUnjlowjne^like ajeather :
■• Lights'\ Both the folios have "Light's"; and so Sympson.— The Hdiiors of 1778 printed « liglit us" !!
' shotlen] "i.e. lean. Herrings [and other fish] are .said to be sholtcn when they have ejected their spawn ; at which time tliey are very lean." Wedku.
26 WOMEN PLEASED. [act n.
I am all air, nothing of earth within me, Nor have not had this month, but that good dinner Your worship gave me yesterday ; that stays by me, And gives me ballass^, else the sun would draw me.
Claii. But does thys mistress speak still of me I
Pen. Yes, sir, A nd in her sleep ; that makes my master mad too, 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.
Clau. And well she viewM me : I viewM her —
Pen. Still she, sir.
Clau. At last she blush'd, and then look'd off.
Pen. That blush, sir. If you can read it truly
Clau. But didst thou tell her, Or didst thou fool me, thou knew''st such a one ?
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.
Clau. Methinks she should not love thy master ? .^
Pen. Hang him, pilcher'M There's nothing loves him ; his own cat cannot endure him. She had better lie with a bear ; for he is so hairy, That a tame warren of fleas frisk round about him.
Clau. And wilt thou work still ?
Pen. Like a miner for you.
Clau. And get access ?
' ballass] i. e. ballast (as before). So the first folio. — The second folio " ballast "; and so the modern editors.
s thy'] Heath's correction (3IS. Notes), — Both the folios " my "; and so the modern editors.
^ pilcher] i. e. pilciiard.
1
If
SCENE IV.] WOMExN PLEASED. 27
Pen. Or conjure you together ; Tis her desire to meet : she is poison'd with him, And, till she take a sweet fresh air — that 's you, sir —
Clan. There 's money for thee ; thou art a precious varlet : Be fat, be fat, and blow thy master backward.
Pen. Blow you my mistress, sir, as flat as a flounder, Then blow her up again, as butchers blow their veals : If she die ' upon the same, Bury her, bury her, in God's name I Clau. Thou art a merry knave. By this hand, I '11 feed thee Till thou crack'st at both ends, if thou dar'st do this ; Thou slialt eat no fantastical porridge. Nor lick the dish where oil was yesterday, Dust and dead flies to-day : capons, fat capons — Pen. Oh, hearty sound !
Clau. Cramm'd full of itching oysters
Pen. Will you have the duchess? Clau. And lobsters big as gauntlets : Thou shalt despise base beef. Pen. I do despise it:
And now, methinks, I feel a tart come sliding
Clau. Leaping into thy mouth : but first deal faithfully. Pen. When will you come ? Clau. To-morrow. Pen. I '11 attend you ; For then my master will be out in business. Clau. ^Mlat news abroad i Pen. Mass, as I was coming to you, 1 heard that Siguier Silvio, a good gentleman,
(Many a good meal I have eaten with him)
aau. What of him?
Pen. Was this day to be, arraign'd before the duchess ; But why, I could not hear.
Clau. Silvio arraigned ! — [Aside.
Go, get you gone, and think of me.
Pen. I fly, sir. [Exit.
' If she die, kc] Perhaps part of some song, though not marked as such in the old copies.
28 WOMEN PLEASED. [act ii.
Clan. ArraignM ! for what ? for my suppos'd death ? No, That cannot be, sure ; there 's no rumour of it. Be it what it will, I will be there and see it, "| And, if my help will bring him off, he has it. | [Exit.
SCENE V. — An apartment in the Palace.
Enter Duchess, Lords, Silvio as prisoner^ Belvidere, Bartello, Rhodope, Clerk, Counsellors, and Attendants.
Duck. Read the edict last made. — Keep silence, there !
Clerk, [reads] " If any man, of tohat condition soever, and a subject, after the publishing of this edict, shall, xcithout special licence from the Great Duchess, offer, or make an attempt, to solicit i the love of the Princess Belvidere, the person so offending shall forfeit his life.''''
First Couns. The reason why — My royal mistress here. In her last treaty with Sienna's Duke, Promis'd her beauteous daughter there in marriage ; The Duke of Milan, rival in this fortune, Unnobly sought by practice^ to betray her ; Which found and crossed, the citadel received her. There to secure her mother's word ; the last cause, So many gentlemen of late enamour''d On this most beauteous princess, and not brooking One more than other to deserve a favour. Blood has been spilt, many brave spirits lost, And more, unless she had been kept close from their violence. Had like to have followed : therefore, for due prevention Of all such hazards and unnoble actions, This last edict was publishM ; which thou, Silvio,
' ivithoiit special licence from the Great Duchess, offer, or make an attempt, to solicit, &.C.] Both the foUos have " ivithoiit speciall Licence from the great Duchesse, attempt or buy, offer, or make an attempt, to solicite," &c. ; and so the modern editors, — Sympson proposing to read (see Errata to vol. viii. ed. 1 750) " ivithoiit special licence from the Great Dutchess attained, try, offer, or make an attempt to solicit," SiC, and Weber remarking that " the te.xt may be an inad- vertency of the poet, not correctly imitating the phrases of law." The passage is evidently corrupted ; and I have preferred omitting the superfluous words.
J practice] i. e. artful contrivance, stratagem.
I
SCENE v.] WOMEN PLEASED. 29
Like a false 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, disguised as before.
Clerk. Speak, Silvio ; What canst thou say to avoid the hand of justice?
Sil. Nothing, but I confess, submit, and lay my head to it.
Bel. Have ye no eyes, my lords, no understandings I The gentleman will cast himself away, Cast himself wilfully ! Are you, or you, guilty ? No more is he, no more taint sticks upon him : I drew him thither, 'twas my way betrayed him ; I got the entrance kept, I entertain'd him, I hid the danger from him, forc'd him to me : Poor gentle soul, he 's in no part transgressing ; I wrote unto him
Sil. Do not wrong that honour, Cast not upon that pureness these aspersions. — By Heaven, it was my love, my violence ! My life must answer it : I broke in to her. Tempted the law, solicited unjustly
Bel. As there is truth in Heaven, I was the first cause ! How could this man have come to me, left naked'', Without my counsel and provision ? What hour could he find out to pass the watches, But I must make it sure first l Reverend judges, Be not abus'd, nor let an innocent life lie Upon your shaking conscience's]: I did it ; My love the main wheel that set him a-going. His motion but compellM.
Sil. Can ye believe this. And know with what a modesty and whiteness Her life was ever rank'd l Can ye believe this, And see me here before ye, young and wilful ? Apt to what danger love dares thrust me on,
'' left naked] " Means— left destitute of assistance." Mason. Sympson pro- posed to read " less naked ".' .'
30 WOMEN PLEASED. [act ii.
And where law stops my way, apt to contemn it ? 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 happiness ; But I, like fire, kindled with that bright beauty, Catch hold of all occasions, and run through 'em.
Bel. I charge ye, as your honest souls will answer it —
Sil. I charge ye, as you are the friends to virtue, That has no pattern living but this lady
Bel. Let not his blood
Sil. Let not her wilfulness (For then you act a scene hell will rejoice at)
Bel. He is clear.
Sil. She is as white in this as infants.
Clau. The god of love protect your cause, and help ye ! Two nobler pieces of affection
These eyes ne'er look'd on : if such goodness perish, Let never true hearts meet again, but break !
l^Aside, and then exit.
First Lord. A strange example of strong love, a rare one !
Sec. Lord. Madam, we know not what to say, to think on.
Duch. I must confess, it strikes me tender too, Searches my mother's heart. — You found 'em there ?
Bm't. Yes, certain, madam. /^Duch. And so link'd together ? ^rJQai't. As they had been one piece of alabaster '.
Duch. Nothing dishonourable ?
Sil. So let my soul have happiness, As that thought yet durst never seek this bosom !
Duch. What shall I do ? has broke my law, abus'd me ; Fain would I know the truth :— cither confess it. And let me understand the main offender, Or both shall feel the torture.
' alabaster'] Both the folios " alablaster " ; and so the word used commonly to be written even as late as the days of Milton ; see the first eds. of Comus, V. 660, and Par. Lost, B. iv. 544. In two passages of Middleton ( Works, i. 281, iv. 108) I retained "alablaster"; but certain ci'itics having blamed me for such unnecessary deference to the old copies, I give in the present passage the correct spelling of the woi'd.
SCENE v.]
WOMEN PLEASED.
31
Sil. Are you <a mother, The mother of so sweet a rose as this is, So pure a flower, and dare you lose that nature ? Dare you take to yourself so great a wickedness (Oh, holy Heaven !) of thinking what may ruin This goodly building ? this temple where the gods dwell fGive me a thousand tortures, — I deserve 'em,— A y L.And shew me death in all the shapes imagiu'd— ^j
Bel No death but I will answer it, meet it, seek it ; No torture but I '11 laugh upon't, and kiss it.
First Lord. This is no way.
Sec. Lord. They say no more, for certain. Than their strong hearts will suffer.
Duck. I have bethought me : No, lords, although I have a child offending, 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 ye. To separate, though not your loves, your bodies : Silvio, attend ; I '11 be your judge myself now. The sentence of your death (because my daughter Will bear an equal part in your afflictions) I take away, and pardon : this remains, then, An easy and a gentle punishment. And this shall be fulfill'd ;-y)ecause unnobly \
You have sought the love and marriage of a princess, The ^solute and solo heir of this dukedom. By thatjneans, as we must imagine strongly. To plant yourself into this rule hereafter, We herg pronounce you a man^banishji from us^
Sil. For ever banish'd, lady ? Duck. Yet more mercy ; — But for a year, and then again in this place To make your full appearance. Yet more pity ; — If in that time you can absolve *" a question vt^Vrit down within this scroll, absolve it rightly, \ This lady is your wife, and shall live with you ; If not, you lose your head.
■" absolve'] i. e. solve.
><
32 WOMEN PLEASED. [act ii.
Sil. I take this honour, And humbly kiss those" royal hands.
Duch. Receive it. — [_Gives him a pape?'.
Bartello, to your old guard take the princess. — And so, the court break up !
Sil. Farewell to all, And to that spotless heart ray endless servicjJJ [Exit.
First Lord. What will this prove I
Sec. Lord. I '11 tell you a year hence, sir. \ v [Exeunt.
SCENE VI. — A room in the house o/' Lopez.
Enter Penurio, Isabella, and Claudio disguised as hefore.
Pen. Are you pleas''d now? have I not wrought this / wonder ?
/Non i henfatto., signor ?
Clau. Rarely, Penurio.
Pen. Close, close, then, and work, wax !
Clau. I am studying for thee A dinner, that shall victual thee for ten year.
Pen. Do you hear, mistress ? You know what a dunder-whelp my master is ; 1 1 need not preach to you how unfit and wanting I To give a woman satisfaction ; how He stinks and snores ; a^ull_^^^etter^bed-:fellow ; And, for his love, never let that deceive you.
Isab. Nay, sure, he loves me not.
Pen. If he could coin you, Or turn you into metal, much might be then ; He loves not any thing but what is traffic : I have heard him swear he would sell you to the Grand Siguier.
Isah. The Turk !
Pen. The very Turk ; and how they would use you
Isab. I '11 fit him for 't : the Turk !
Pen. I know the price too : Now you have time to pay him, pay him home, mistress,
" those'\ Weber printed '• these ".
i
SCENE VI.] WOMEN PLEASED. 33
Pay him o' the pate, clout ' him for all his courtesies :
Here 's one that dances in your eyes, young, delicate,
To work this vengeance ; if you let it slip now,
There is no pitying of you : 'od's precious, mistress,
Were I his wife, I would so maul his^mazzard "" !
'Tis^harity^ mere chari^y^ pure charity :
Are you the first ? has it not been from Eve's time,
Women would have their safe revenges this way ?
And good and gracious women, excellent women ?
Is 't not a handsome gentleman, a sweet gentleman ?
View him from head to foot, a complete gentleman ?
When can you hope the like again 1 I leave you.
And my revenge, too, with you : I know my office ;
I '11 not be far off. Be not long a-fumbling :
AVhen danger shall appear, I '11 give the 'larm. [Exit.
Isab. You are welcome, sir ; and would it were ray fortune To afford a gentleman of your fair seeming A freer entertainment than this house has ! You partly know, sir
Clau. Know, and pity, lady, Such sweetness in the bud should be so blasted : Dare you make me your servant ? J
Isab. Dare you make, sir, That service worthy of a woman's favour By constancy and goodness ?
Clan. Here I swear to you, By the unvalu'd " love I bear this beauty, (And kiss the book too,) never to be recreant ; To^honour you, to truly love, and serve you, My youth to wait upon you, what my wealth has —
hub. Oil. ni.iki' me not so poor to sell affection ! Those bought loves, sir, wear faster than the moneys. — A handsome gentleman ! [Aside.
Claii. A most dehcate sweet one " ! — [Aside.
Let my truth purchase, then.
' clouf^ i. e. strike, bang (the " clouting" in question being, of course, meta- phorical) : see note, vol. vi. 484.
"' mazzard'] i. e. head. " iinrahi'd] i. e. invalualile.
° A most delicate sweet o«e] The Editora of 1778 chose to give these words to Isabella '
VOL. VIl. D
34 WOMEN PLEASED. [act ii.
Isab. I should first try it ; But you may happily
Clau. You shall not doubt rae : — I hope she loves me [Aside] : — when I prove false, shame take
me! Will you believe a little ?
Isab. I fear, too much, sir.
Clau. And will you love a little ?
Isab. That should be your part.
Clau. Thus I begin then, thus and thus. [Kisses her.
Isab. A good beginning, We have a proverb says, makes a good ending.
Clau. Say you so 1 'tis well inferr'd.
Isab. Good sir, your patience : Methinks I have ventur'd now, like a weak bark, Upon a broken billow that will swallow rae, Upon a rough sea of suspicions. Stuck round with jealous rocks.
Pen. [ivitJmi] A-hem, a-hem, there !
Isab. This is my man : my fears too soon have found me.
Re-enter Pendrio.
Now, what 's the news ?
Pen. A pox of yonder P old rigel 'i ! The captain, the old captain !
Isab. What old captain ?
Pen. Captain Courageous yonder, of the castle, Captain Don Diego'", old Bartello.
Isab. Where is he ?
Pen. He 's coming in : 'Twould vex the devil that such an old pot-gun^ as this, That can make no sport, should hinder them that can do it.
Isab. I would not have him see the gentleman For all the world ; my credit were undone then.
p yonder'\ Silently altered to " yond " by Sympson ; and so his successors. 1 rigel'\ A word variously written — means an animal half castrated. See Todd's Johnson's Diet, and Richardson's Did. in v. Ridgel. ' Don Diego] See note, vol. iii. 274. • pol-gun] See note, vol. iii. 253.
SCENE VI.] WOMEN PLEASED. 35
Pen. Shall I fling a piss-pot on 's head as he comes in, And take him into the kitchen, there to dry him I ■•
Isah. That will not do : and he is so humorous too, He will come in.
Clan. What is he ?
Isah. One much troubles me.
Pen. And can do nothing, cannot eat.
Isah. Your sight now, Out of a drivelling dotage he bears to me, May make him tell my husband, and undo me.
Clait. "What would you have me do l
Isah. But for a while, sir. Step here behind this hanging ; presently I '11 answer him, and then
Clau. I will obey you. [^Retires behind the arras.
Enter Bartello.
Bart. Where's my rich jeweller ? I have stones to set.
Pen. He is abroad, and sure, sir.
Bart. There 's for your service.
[Gives him money. Exit Penurio. Where 's the fair lady ? — All alone, sweet beauty ?
Isah. She 's never much alone, sir, that 's acquainted With such companions as good honest thoughts are.
Bart. I '11 sit down by thee, and I '11 kiss thy hand too. And in thine ear swear, by my life, I love thee.
Isah. You are a merry captain.
Bart. And a mad one, lady. By the mass, thou hast goodly eyes, excellent eyes, wench ! You twinkling rogue * ! look what thy captain brings thee : Thou must needs love me, love me heartily. Hug me, and love me, hug me close.
Isah. Fie, captain !
Bart. Nay, I have strength, and I can strain you, sirrah, And vault into my seat as nimbly, little one, As any of your smooth-chinn'd boys in Florence. I must needs commit a little folly with you ;
* rogiie] So the first folio. — T lie second folio " rogues" (meaning, of course, her eyes) ; and so the modern editors : but compare p. 58, 1. 15.
n 2
36 WOMEN PLEASED. [act ii.
I 'U not be long ; a bridling cast % and away, wench : The hob-nail thy husband 's as fitly out o"" the way now —
Isab. Do you think he keeps a bawdy-house ?
Bart. That's all one.
Isab. Or did you ever see that lightness in my carriage, That you might promise to yourself
Bart. Away, fool ! A good turn ""s a good turn ; I am an honest fellow.
Isab. You have a handsome wife, a virtuous gentlewoman
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's more than I know.
Etiter Jaquenet with Pendrio.
Jaq. Oh, mistress, you are undone ! my master ""s coming.
Pen. Coming hard by here.
Bart. Plague consume the rascal ! Shall I make petty-patties of him ?j,
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 that wild mood he will execute
Bart. I can think of nothing ; I have no wit left me ; Certain my head 's a mustard-pot '.
Isab. I have thought, sir ; .
And, if you ""U " please to put in execution What I conceive
' a bridling cast] So the second folio. — The first foUo "a brideling case." — This expression has already occuri'ed : see note, vol. iii. 37. Sinc« writing that note, I have met with the following passage ;
" I come, my laddes : my markets once ore-past, At riutterkins weele haue one brideling cast."
D. Belchier's Hans Beer-pot his invisible comedie of See me, and See me not, 1G18, sig. b 3. ' / hai^e 710 wit left me ;
Certain my head's a mustard-pot] " So in the Second Part of Henry I V. act ii. sc. iv. Falstaff says, in answer to Doll Tearsheet's observation that Poins had a good wit, * He a good wit ? hang him, baboon J his wit is as thick as Tewkesbury mustard ; there is no more conceit in him than is in a mallet.'" Reed. " you 'W] Weber chose to print " you ".
SCENE VI.] WOMEN PLEASED. 37
Bart. I 'll do it ; tell it quickly.
Isab. Draw your sword quickly, and go down enrag'd, As if you had pursu'd some foe up hither, And grumble to yourself extremely, terribly, But not a word to him ; and so pass by him. .
Bart, I '11 do it perfectly.
Enter Lopez.
Isab. Stand you still, good sir.
Bart. Rascal, slave, villain ! take a house so poorly, After thou 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 ! And take a house to cover thy base cowardice ! I '11 whip you, I '11 so scourge you ! \^Exit.
Lopez. Mercy upon me ! What 's all this matter, wife ?
Isab. Did you meet the madman ?
Lopez. I never saw the captain so provok'd yet.
Isab. Oh, he 's a devil sure, a most bloody devil ! He folIowM a young gentleman, his sword drawn, With such a fury — how I shake to think on 't ! And^ foin'd ", and slash'd at him, and swore he 'd kill him ; Drove him up hither, follow'd him still bloodily, And, if I had not hid him, sure had slain him : A merciless old man ! [Claudio comes from behind the arras.
Clau. Most virtuous lady, Even as the giver of my life, I thank you !
Lopez. This fellow must not stay here, he is too handsome. —
\^ Aside. He is gone, sir, and you may pass now with all security ; I '11 be your guide myself, and such a way I '\\ lead you, none shall cross, nor none shall know you. — The doors left open, sirrah I I '11 starve you for this trick ;
I '11 make thee fast o' Sundays : and for you, lady,
I '11 have your lodgings farther off and closer ;
I '11 have no street-lights to you. — ^\'ill you go, sir ?
" foind] i. e. thi'ust.
38 WOMEN PLEASED. [act hi.
Clau. I thank you, sir. — The devil take this fortune ! —
^Aside. And, once more, all my service to your goodness !
\^Exeunt Lopez and Claudio.
Pen. Now could I eat my very arms for madness : Cross'd in the nick o' the matter ! Vengeance take it, And that old cavalier that spoil'd our cock-fight ! I '11 lay the next plot surer.
Isab. I am glad, and sorry ; Glad that I got so fairly off suspicion, Sorry I lost my new-lov'd friend.
Pen. Not lost, mistress ; I '11 conjure once again to raise that spirit. In, and look soberly upon the matter : We '11 ring him one peal more ; and, if that fall. The devil take the clappers, bells, and all ! ^Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. — An apartment in the Palace.
Enter Duchess, Lords, and Rhodope.
Duck. Now, Rhodope, how do you find my daughter?
Bhod. Madam, I find her now what you would have her, What the state wishes her : I urgM her fault to her, OpenM her eyes, and made her see the mischief She was running with a headlong will into ; Made her start at her folly, shake and tremble At the mere memory of such an ignorance : She now contemns his love, hates his remembrance, Cannot endure to hear the name of Silvio, His person spits at
Duch. I am glad to hear this.
Rhod. And humbly now to your will, your care, madam, Bends her affections, bows her best obedience :
SCENE I.] WOMEN PLEASED. 39
Sienna's Duke with new eyes now she looks on,
And with a princely love, 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 arrivM too
(To whom she owes all honour and all service),
She charg'd me kneel thus at your grace's feet,
And not to rise without a general pardon. I [Kneels.
Duch. [raising her] She has it, and my love again, my old love ; And with more tenderness I meet this penitence, Than if she ne'er had started from her honour. I thank you, Rhodope, am bound to thank you, And daily to remember this great service, This honest faithful service. Go in peace. And by this ring, delivered to Bartello, Let her enjoy our favour and her liberty ; And presently to this place, with all honour, See her conducted.
Rhod. Your grace has made me happy. [Exit.
Enter a Lord. Lord. Sienna's noble Duke craves his admittance. Duch. Go, wait upon his grace.
Enter Duke of Sienna, icith Attendants.
Fair sir, you are welcome, Welcome to her ever admir'd your virtues : And now, methinks, my court looks truly noble. You have t<aken too much pains, sir.
Duke. Royal lady, To wait upon your grace is but my service.
Duch. Keep that, sir, for the saint you have vow'd it to.
Duhe. I keep a life for her : since your grace pleases 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.
40 WOMEN PLEASED. [act hi.
Duck. You are like to win, sir.
Enter Belvidere, Bartello, Rhodope, and Attendants.
All is forgot, forgiven too : no sadness,
^ly good child ; you have the same heart still here.
The Duke of Sienna, child : pray, use hira nobly.
Duke. An angel beauty !
Bel. Your grace is fairly welcome ; And what in modesty a blushing maid may Wish to a gentleman of your great goodness — But wishes are too poor a pay for princes.
Duke. You have made me richer than all states and titles ; One kiss of this white hand 's above all honours : ]My faith, dear lady, and my fruitful service, My duteous zeal
Bel. Your grace is a great master, And speak too powerfully to be resisted. Once more, you are w'elcome, sir; to me you are welcome, To her that honours you : I could say more, sir ; But in another's tongue 'twere better spoken.
Duke. As wise as fair ! You have made your servant
happy.— I never saw so rich a mine of sweetness.
Duch. Will your grace please, after your painful journey, To take some rest I — Are the duke^s lodgings ready 2
First Lord. All, madam.
Duch. Then wait upon his grace, all: — and to-morrow, sir, We '11 shew you in what high esteem we hold you : Till then, a fair repose !
Duke. My fairest service !
[Exeunt Duke, Lords, and Attendants.
Duch. You have so honoured me, my dearest daughter. So truly pleasVl me in this entertainment, I mean, your loving carriage to Sienna, That both for ever 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 are too royal to me ;
SCENE I.]
WOMEN PLEASED. 4l
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 thought he was in Paradise,
Awak'd and saw the devil. How was I wander' d !
With what eyes could I look upon that poor, that coarse thing,
That wretched thing, call'd Silvio ! that now despis'd thing !
And lose an object of that graceful sweetness,
That god-like presence, as Sienna is !
Darkness and cheerful day had not such difference.
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 !
Duch. Prithee, no more ; and, as thou art my best one. Ask something that may equal such a goodness.
Bel. Why did you let him go so slightly from you, ^lore like a man in triumph than condemned ? \Vhy did you make his penance but a question, A riddle, every idle wit unlocks I
Duch. 'Tis not so, Nor do not fear it so ; he will not find it : I have given that (unless myself discover it) Will cost his head. A
Bel. 'Tis subject to constrjiction ! >
Duch. That it is too.
Bel. It may be, then, absolv'd"', And then are we both scorn'd and laugh'd at, madam : Beside the promise you have tied upon it, Which you must never keep.
Duch. I never meant ^ it.
Bel. For Heaven-sake, let me know it ! 'tis my suit to you. The boon you would have me ask : let me but see it. That, if there bo a way to make 't so strong No wit nor powerful reason can run through it For my disgrace, I may beg of Heaven to grant it.
Duch. Fear not ; it has been put to sharper judgments Than e'er he shall arrive at : my dear father,
" Irausyress'd you] Compare vol. v. 6.'), 411.
* absolv'd] i. e. solved.
» meant] Weber chose to print "mean."
42 WOMEN PLEASED. [aci ui.
That was as fiery in his understanding
And ready in his wit as any living,
Had it two years, and studied it, yet lost it.
This night you are my bedfellow ; there, daughter,
Into your bosom I "11 commit this secret,
And there we'll both take counsel.
Bel. I shall find Some trick, I hope, too strong yet for his mind/^ J
[Exeunt.
SCENE U.— A street. Enter Penurio. Pen. Methinks I am batten'd^ well of late, grown lusty, - Fat, high, and kicking, — thanks to the bounteous Ru^o>, And now, methinks, I scorn these poor repasts. Cheese-parings and the stinking tongues of pilchers ^ : But why should I remember these I they are odious, They are odious in mine eyes ; the full fat dish now, The bearing ^ dish, is that I reverence, The dish an able serving-man sweats under, And bends i' th' hams, as if the liouse hung on him, That dish is the dish ; hang your bladder-banquets Of 1* half a dozen of turnips and two mushrooms ! These, when they breed their best, hatch but two belches : The state of a fat turkey, the decorum "~~~^
He marches in with, all the train and circumstance, — 'Tis such a matter, such a glorious matter ! And then his sauce with oranges and onions. And he displayM in all parts ! for such a dish now. And at my need, I would betray my father, u And, for a roasted conger, all my country.
Enter Bartello. Bart. What, my friend Lean-gut ! how does thy beauteous mistress ? And where 's your master, sirrah ? where 's that horn-pipe ?
^ battened] i. e. fattened,
' pilchers'] i. e. pilchards. " bearing] See note, p. 14.
*" Of\ Mason's correction. — Both the folios " Or " ; and so Sympson and the Editors of 1778 .
SCENE 11.] WOMEN PLEASED. 43
Pen. My mistress, sir, does as a poor wrong'd gentlewoman (Too much, Heaven knows, oppressed with injuries) May do, and live.
Bart. Is the old fool still jealous ?
Pen. As old fools are and will be, still the same, sir.
Bart. He must have cause, he must have cause.
Pen. 'Tis true, sir ; And would he had with all my heart !
Bart. He shall have.
Pen. For then he had salt to his saffron porridge ^.
Bart. ^W\\y Do not I see thee sometime ? why, thou starv'd rascal ? Why do not 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. Thou art welcome. I have a secret I would fain impart to thee ; But thou art so thin, the wind will blow it from thee. Or men will read it through thee.
Pen. Wrapt up in beef, sir, In good gross beef, let all the world look on me : The English have that trick to keep intelligence.
Bart. A witty knave ! First, there 's to tie your tongue up. [^Gives money.
Pen. Dumb as a dog, sir.
Bart. Next, hark in your ear, sirrah. [Whispers.
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 butterM eggs, swear.
Pen. Let me kiss the book first : But here 's my hand, brave captain.
Bart. Look you hold, sirrah. [^Fjxit.
Pen. Oh, the most precious vanity of this world,
' his saffron porridge')^ i. e. his jealousy (the said porridge beinp, of courec, yellow, a colour which was supposed to be charactci-istic of jealousy).
44 WOMEN PLEASED. [act in.
When such dried ^ neats' tongues must be soak'd and larded
With young fat supple wenches ! Oh, the devil,
What can he do ? he cannot suck an egg off,
But his back's loose i' the hilts. Go thy ways, captain !
Well may thy warlike name work miracles ;
But, if e'er thy founder'd courser win match more.
Or stand right but one train
Enter three Gentlemen.
First Gent. Now, Signior Shadow, What art thou thinking of I how to rob thy master ?
Pen. Of his good deeds ? The thief that undertakes that Must have a hook will pose all hell to hammer. Have ye din'd, gentlemen, or do you purpose \
Sec. Gent. Din'd ! two long hours ago.
Pen. Pray ye, take me with ye.
Third Gent. To supper, dost thou mean I
Pen. To any thing That has the smell of meat in 't. Tell me true, gentlemen ; Are not you three now going to be sinful ? To jeopard ^ a joint, or so I I have found your faces % And see ichore written in your eyes.
First Gent. A parlous ^ rascal ! Thou art much upon the matter.
Pen. Have a care, gentlemen : ""Tis a sore age, very sore age, lewd age ; ,
And women now are like old knights' adventures, // Full of enchanted flames, and dangerous.
Sec. Gent. Where the most danger is, there 'sthe mo.sthonour»
Pen. I grant ye, honour most consists in sufferance ; And by that rule you three should be most honourable.
Third Gent. A subtle rogue ! But canst thou tell, Penurio, Where we might ? light upon
c driect] So the second folio. — The first folio " dry " ; and so the Editors of 1778 and Weber.
■^ jeopard] The first folio " jeabard" ; the second " iropard ".
« found your faces'] " i. e. discovered the meaning of your looks." Ed. 1778. Sympson proposed, most unnecessarily, to substitute " conn'd " for "found".
f parlous] See note, p. 7.
s might] So the first folio. — The sccondfolio"may" ; and so the modern editors.
SCENE 11.] WOMEN PLEASED. 45
Pen. A learned surgeon?
Third Gent. Pox take you, fool ! I mean, good wholesome wenches.
Pen. Faith, wholesome women will but spoil ye too, For you are so us'd to snap-haunces ?. But take my counsel ; Take fat old women, fat, and five and fifty ; The dog-days are come in.
Sec. Gent. Take fat old women !
Pen. The fatter and the older, still the better : You do not know the pleasure of an old dame, A fat old dame ; you do not know the knack on 't : They are like our country grots, as cool as Christmas, And sure i'' the keels.
First Gent. Hang him, starved fool, he mocks us !
Third Gent. Penurio, thou know'st all the handsome wenches : What shall I give thee for a merchant's wife now ?
Pen. I take Ho money, gentlemen ; that ""s base : I trade in meat : a merchant's wife will cost ye — A glorious capon, a great shoulder of mutton. And a tart as big as a conjurer's circle.
Third Gent. That 's cheap enough.
First Gent. And what a haberdasher's ?
Pen. Worse meat will serve for her, — a great goose-pie (But you must send it out o' the country to me. It will not do else), with a piece of bacon. And, if you can, a pot of butter with it.
Sec. Gent. Now do I aim at horse-flesh : what a parson's '^ ?
Pen. A tithe-pig has no fellow, if I fetch her ; If she be Puritan', plum-porridge does it, And a fat loin of veal, well sauc'd and roasted.
« snap-haunces] " Snaphance. A spring-lock to a gun or pistol ; a fire- lock, which term, as snaphance sometimes was, is since given to the gun itself." Nares's Gloss. The word was frequently used, as here, metaphori- cally : see, for instance, Middleton's JVorks, iv. 23, ed. Dyce. The Editors of 1778 chose to print " s/ir/p-haunches ".
^ Now do I aim at horseflesh: what a parson's?] "There is a vulgar proverb, that he who cuckolds a parson shall have good luck in hoi-se-flesh." Weber.
' I/she be Puritan] " Seward proposes to read ' If slie be not PuriUn ' : and
46 WOMEN PLEASED. [act hi.
Sec. Gent. We '11 meet one night, and thou shalt have all these, O' that condition we may have the wenches. — A dainty rascal !
Pen. When your stomachs serve ye, (For mine is ever ready,) I '11 supply ye.
Fi?-st Gent. Farewell ; and there 's to fill thy paunch.
[ Gives money.
Fen. Brave gentleman !
Sec. Gent. Hold, sirrah, there. \^Gives money.
Pen. Any young wench i"" the town, sir
Third Gent. It shall go round. \^Gives money.
Pen. Most honourable gentlemen ! \^Exeunt Gentlemen. All these are courtiers ; but they are mere coxcombs, And only for a wench their purses open ; Nor have they so much judgment left to choose her. If e''er they call upon me, I ''11 so fit 'em ! I have a pack of wry-mouth'd mackrel ladies. Stink like a standing ditch, and those dear damsels — But I forget J my business : — I thank ye, monsieurs ! — I have a thousand whimsies in my brains now. {Exit.
SCENE III. — An apartment in the Palace. A banquet set out.
Enter Duchess, Duke of Sienna, Lords, and Attendants.
Duch. Your grace shall now perceive how much we honour you, And in what dear regard we hold your friendship. Will you sit, sir, and grace this homely banquet ?
what he says in the beginning of his note is true, that the Puritans warmly opposed the celebration of festivals, and the feasting attending them ; but it does not follow from thence that the negative he contends for ought to be inserted. There is much more humour in the present reading ; for the dishes Penurio mentions are not the bribes or inducements for the women to come, but the rewards he expects for bringing them, which he ludicrously contrasts with their inclinations and opinions." Mason.
J forget] So the second folio.— The first folio " forgot " ; and so the Editors of 1778 and Weber.
SCENE III.] WOMEN PLEASED. 47
Duke. Madam, to your poor friend you are too magnificent. Duch. To the duke's health, and all the joys I wish him ! Let no man miss this cup {They drinli]. Have we no music I
Duke. Your noble favours still you heap upon me : But where ""s my virtuous mistress ? such a feast, And not her sparkling beauty here to bless it \ Methinks, it should not be ; it shews not full}^
Duch. Young ladies, sir, are long and curious In putting on their trims, forget how day goes, And then 'tis their good-morrow when they are ready. — Go some and call her, and wait upon her hither ; Tell her the duke and I desire her company. — I warrant you, a hundred dressings now She has survey'd ; this and that fashion look'd on, For ruffs and gowns ; cast this away, these jewels Suited to these, and these knots : o' my life, sir, She fears your curious eye will soon discover else — Why stand ye still I why gape ye on one another 2 Did I not bid ye go, and tell my daughter ? Are ye naiPd here I nor stir, nor speak I who am 1 1 - And who are you ?
First Lord. Pardon me, gracious lady ! The fear to tell you that you would not hear of Makes us all dumb : the prijacess is gone, madam.
Dacli. Gone ! whither gone \ Some wiser fellow answer me. Sec. Lord. We sought the court all over ; and, believe, lady, No news of where she is, nor how convey'd hence. Duch. It cannot be, it must not be ! First Lord. 'Tis true, madam ; No room in all the court but we search'd through it. Her women found her want first, and they cried to us. Duch. Gone ! stoln away ! I am abus'd, dishonour'd. Duke. 'Tis I that am abusM, 'tis I dishonourM. Is this your welcome ? this your favour to me ? 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 1 have a life, sir
48 WOMEN PLEASED, [act hi.
Duke. And I another, I will never bear this, 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.
Duke. And all my care, too, To be reveng'd : I smell the trick ; 'tis too rank ; Fie, how it smells o' the mother !
Duch. You wrong me, duke.
Duke. For this disgrace ten thousand Florentines 1 Shall pay^tjigirjiearesjbjjloodsj and^clying curse you : I And so I turn away, your mortal enemyl ' {_Exit.
Duch. Since you are so high and hot, sir, you have half arra'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.
My daughter gone ! has she so finely cozen'd me ?
This is for Silvio's sake, sure; oh, cunning false one !
Publish a proclamation thorough the dukedom,
That whosoe'er can bring to the court young Silvio,
Alive or dead, beside our thanks and favour,
Shall have two thousand ducats for his labour :
See it despatch'd, and sent in haste. — Oh, base one ! [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — A bed-room in the house o/* Lopez.
Enter Isabella, and Penurio with.a light. Isab. Wast thou with\Rugio ? )^^ (A i\K^^ Pen. Yes, marry, was I, closely'. ^
^ dor'\ Which Weber erroneously explains "disappointment," — means- mockery, scornful trick, cheat. The dor is properly the hedge-chafer, " which," observes Gifford, " appears to mock, or play upon, the passenger, by striking him on the face, and then flitting away preparatory, as it were, to a fresh attack." Note on Jonson's Works, i. 132.
' closeli/] "i. e. pi-ivately." Weber.
SCENE IV. ] WOMEN PLEASED. 49
Isab. And does he still remember his poor mistress ? Does he desire to see me ?
Pm. Yes, and presently ; Puts off all business else, lives in that memory, And will be here according to directions.
Isab. But where 's thy master I
Pen. Where a coxcomb should be ; Waiting at court with his jewels ; safe for This night, I warrant you,
Isab. I am bound to thee.
Pen. I would you were, as close as I could tie you !
Isab. Thou art my best, my truest friend.
Pen. I labour, I moil and toil for you ; I am your hackney.
Isab. If ever I be able
Pen. Steal the great cheese, mistress, Was sent him out o' the country.
Isab. Any thing.
Pen. That's meat; 'tis lawful, mistress™. Where's the castle-custard ", He got at court ?
Isab. He has lock'd it in 's study.
Pen. Get a warrant To search for counterfeit gold.
Isab. Give me thy candle : 1 '11 find a time to be thy careful cater".
Pen. And many a time I '11 find to be his cook, And dress his calfs head to the sweetest sauce, mistress.
Isab. To bed, Penurio ; go : the rest is my charge ; I '11 keep the watch out.
Pen. Now, if you spare him
Isab. Peace, fool. [Exit Penurio.
I hope my Rugio will not fail ; 'twould vex me. Now to my string : so ; sure, he cannot miss now, ^
[ Ties a string to her finger.
*" That's meat ; 'tis latvful, tyiislress'] " To steal food was vulgarly held to be without the censure of the law." Weber.
" castle-custard] i. e. custard in a crust, shaped like a castle. • cater] i. e. caterer. VOL. VII. E
50 WOMEN PLEASED, [act in.
And this end to my finger. I '11 lie down, For on a sudden I am wondrous heavy : 'Tis very late too. If he come, and find this, And pull it, though it be with easy motion, I shall soon waken, and as soon be with him.
[Lies down, and falls^asleep.
Enter Lopez. Lopez. Thou secret friend P, how am I bound to love thee ! And how to hug thee for thy private service I 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 Of devilish women, that torment me daily : Thou art my conjurer, my spell, my spirit. — All 's hush'd and still ; no sound of any stirring. No tread of living thing. The light is in still ; A nd there 's my wife : how prettily the fool lies. How sweet, and handsomely ! and in her clothes too, — 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 thou hat'st thy loving husband ? I am an ass, an over-doting coxcomb ; And this sweet soul the mirror of perfection. How admirable fair and delicate ! And how it stirs me ! I '11 sing thy sweets a requiem, But will not waken thee. [Sings.
Oh, fair sweet face ! oh, eyes celestial bright, Twin stars in Heaven, that now adorn the night ! Oh, fruitful lips, where cherries ever grow, And damask checks, 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, I 'm caught myself ! " he cries : Sweet rest about thee, sweet and golden sleep, Soft peaceful thoughts, your hourly watches keep, Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice, To beauty sacred, and those angel eyes !
p T/lou secret friend] " His private key." Sympson.
SCENE IV.] WOMEN PLEASED. 51
Now will I steal a kiss, a dear kiss from her, And suck the rosy breath of this bright beauty. — "What a devil is this ? tied to her finger too ? A string, a damned string, to give intelligence ! Oh, my lov'd key, hosilri^yjiasl thou serv'd me ! I '11 follow this : soft, soft ; to the dooF it goes, And through to tli' other side : a damn'd string 'tis ! I am abusM, topt, cuckolded, foolM, jaded, Ridden to death, to madness ! — Stay ; this helps not ; Stay, stay : and now invention help me ! I '11 sit down by her, take this from her easily, And thus upon mine own— dog, I shall catch you ;
[ Ties the string to his finger. With all your cunning, sir, I shall light on you. — 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 ghostly father ! \_Exit,
Isah. [aicaki7ig] Sure, 'twas my husband's voice : the string is gone too ; He has found the trick on 't : I am undone, betray'd, And, if he meet my friend, he perishes ;
What fortune follows me, what spiteful fortune !
Ho, Jaquenet !
Enter Jaquenet.
Jaq. Here, mistress ; do you call me ?
Isah. Didst thou hear no noise ?
Jag. I hear my master mad yonder. And swears, and chafes
Isab. Dar'st thou do one thing: for me ? One thing concerns mine honour I all is lost else.
Jaq. Name what you will.
Isab. It can bring but a beatinof. Which I will recompense so largely
Jaq. Name it.
Isab. Sit here as if thou wert asleep.
Jaq. Is that all ?
Isab. When he comes in, whate'er he do unto thee (The worst will be but beating), speak not a word, Not one word, as thou lov'st me.
K 2
52 WOMEN PLEASED. [act in.
Jaq. I 'II run through it.
Isab. I '11 carry away the candle. \^Exit ivith the I'ujht.
Jaq. And I the blows, mistress. {Lies down.
Re-enter Lopez. Lopez. Have you put your light out I I shall stumble to you, You whore, you cunning whore ! I shall catch your rogue too : H 'as light legs, else I had so ferret-claw'd him ! Oh, have I found you ? do you play at dog-sleep still, whore ? Do you think that can protect you ? Yes, I will kill thee ; But first 1 '11 bring thy friends to view thy villanies. Thy whorish villanies : and first I '11 beat thee, Beat thee to pin-dust, thou salt whore, thou varlet, Scratch out thine eyes ; I '11 spoil your tempting visage ! —
[_Beats her. Are you so patient ? I '11 put my nails in deeper. Is it good whoring ? whoring, you base rascal I Is it good tempting men with strings to ride you ? So : I ^11 fetch your kindred and your friends, whore ; And such a justice I will act upon thee! [Exit.
Re-enter Isabella, with the light.
Isab. What, is he gone ?
Jaq. The devil go with him, mistress ! H 'as harrow'd me, ploughed land was ne'er so harrow'd ; I had the most ado to save mine eyes.
Isab. H 'as paid thee ; But I '11 heal all again with good gold, Jaquenet : H 'as damn'd nails.
Jaq. They are tenpenny nails, I think, mistress ; I '11 undertake he shall strike 'em through an inch-board.
Isab. Go up and wash thyself ; take my pomatum ; And now let me alone to end the
Jaq. You had best beware.
Isab. I shall deal stoutly with him. Reach me ray book, and see the door made fast, wench ; And so, good night. [Exit Jaquenet.
Now to the matter politic. [_Knocking tvithin.
SCENE IV.] WOMEN PLEASED. 53
Lopez. \\citldn'\ You shall see what she is, what a sweet jewel.
hah. Who 's there \ what madman knocks ? is this an hour, And in mine husband's absence \
Lopez. \ioitldn\ Will you open ? You know my voice, you whore ! I am that husband. — Do you mark her subtilty \ but I have paid her ; I have so ferk'd p her face ! here^|sjhe_blood, gentlemen ; Icce signum ! I have. spoiled her goatish beauty ; Observ?r1ierTiow she looks now, how she is painted ! Oh, 'tis the most wickedest whore, and the most treacherous
Re-enter Lopez, with Bartello, Gentlemen, and tico Gentlewomen.
First Gent. Here walks my cousin, full of meditation, Arm'd with religious thoughts.
Bart. Is this the monster ?
First Gentlew. Is this the subject of that rage you talk'd of. That naughty woman you had pull'd a-pieces I
Bart. Here 's no such thing.
First Gentlew. How have you wrong'd this beauty ! Are not you mad, my friend ? what time o' the moon is 't ? Have not you maggots in your brains l
Lopez. 'Tis she, sure !
First Gent. Where 's the scratchVl face you spoke of, the torn garments. And all the hair pluck'd off her head ?
Bart. Believe me, 'Twere better far you had lost your pair of pebbles. Than she the least adornment of that sweetness. /'
[Y,opez. Is notjLhis_bklod.l J^hewinqhis hgM
First Gentlew. This is a monstrous folly, A base abuse.
Isah. Thus he does ever use me, And sticks me up a wonder, not a woman : Nothing I do, buf subject to suspicion; Nothing I can do, able to content him.
Burt. Lopez, you must not use this.
P ferk'd] Ovjirk'd: see t e , vol. iv. 216.
1 but] So the tirot folio. — The second folio " hut's " ; and so Synijison and tlie Editors of 1778.
54 WOMEN PLEASED. [act in.
Sec. Gentlew, 'Twere not amiss, sir, To give you sauce to your meat, and suddenly.
First Gentleio. You that dare wrong a woman of her good- ness. Thou have a wife ? thou have a bear tied to thee, To scratch thy jealous itch ! Were all o' my mind, I mean, all women, we would soon disburden you Of that that breeds these fits, these dog- flaws'" in you ; A sow-gelder should trim you.
Bart. A rare cure, lady, And one as fit for him as a thief for a halter. — You see this youth ; will you not cry him quittance ? Body ""me^ I would pine, but I would pepper him : I '11 come anon \_Aside to Isab.]. — He, hang him, poor pom- pillion * ! How like a wench bepiss'd he looks ! — I "11 come, lady. —
\_Aside to Isab. Lopez, the law must teach you what a wife is, A good, a virtuous wife.
Isab. I '11 ne'er live with him. I crave your loves all to make known my cause, That so a fair divorce may pass between us : I am weary of my life ; in danger houi'ly.
Bart. You see how rude you are — I will not miss you —
[_Aside to Isab. Unsufferable rude — I '11 pay him soundly — [Aside to her.
You should be whipt in Bedlam — I '11 reward him.
[Aside to her. Sec. Gentleio. Whipping 's too good. Lopez. I think I am alive still, And in my wits.
Bart. I 'll put a trick upon him,
' dog-flaws'^ i. e. gusts of rage, like those of a dog : flaiv was very common in the sense of — gust.
' Body 'mel Silently altered to " Body o' me" by the Editors of 1778 ; and so Weber.
* pompillion] " Cotgrave interprets populeon, ' populeon, or pompillion, au ointment made of blacke poplar buds.' The allusion in the text is perhaps to the artificial aids which Lopez was obliged to make use of, to conceal the effects of age." Weber. It may be so. Coles too gives " A Pompilion, unguentum populneum." Did.
sciiNE IV.] WOMEN PLEASED. 55
And get his goods confiscate ; you shall have 'em.
I will not fail at nine. \_Aside to Isab.
Lopez. I think I am hero too ; And once I would have sworn I had taken her napping ; I think my name is Lopez.
First Gent. Fie, for shame, sir ! You see you have abus'd her, foully wrong'd her, Hung scandalous and coarse opinions on her, Which now you find but children of suspicion : Ask her forgiveness, shew a penitence. She is my kinswoman ; and what she suffers Under so base and beastly jealousies, I will redress, else I ""11 seek satisfaction.
Bart. Why, every boy i' the town will piss upon thee.
Lopez. I am sorry for 't
First Genthic. Down o' your marrow-bones !
Lopez. Even sorry from my heart : forgive me, sweet wife !
[^Kneels. Here I confess most freely I have wrong'd you ; As freely here I beg a pardon of you ! From this hour no debate, no cross suspicion
hah. To shew you, sir, I understand a wife*'s part, Thus I assure my love, and seal your pardon.
\_Kisses him. He rises.
Sec. Gentlew. 'Tis well done: now to bed, and there confirm it.
First Gent. And so, good night.
Bart. Aware relapses, Lopez.
[Exeimt all except Lopez a7id Isab.
Lopez. Now, Isabella, tell me truth, and suddenly, And do not juggle with me, nor dissemble, For, as I have a life, you die then ! I am not mad. Nor does the devil work upon my weakness : Tell me the trick of this, and tell me freely.
Isab. Will, then, that satisfy you ?
Lopez. If you deal ingenuously.
Isab. I '11 tell you all, and tell you true and freely. 'Bartello was the end of all this jealousy ; His often visitations brought by you, first
5fi WOMEN PLEASED. [act iv.
Bred all these fits and these suspicions ;
I knew your false key, and accordingly
I fram'd my plot, to have you take him finely, —
Too poor a penance for the wrong his wife bears,
His worthy virtuous wife ; ^feltjtjensibly it
^^hen you took off the string, and waslnuch^pleasLd-in'tjIly
Because I wish'd his importunate dotage paid well ;
And, had you stay'd two minutes more, you had had him.
Lopez. This sounds like truth. ^ Isab. Because this shall be certain,
Next time he comes (as long he cannot tarry) Yourself shall see, and hear, his lewd temptations.
Lopez. Till then I am satisfied : and, if this prove true, Henceforward mistress of yourself I give you. And I to serve you. For ray lusty captain, I '11 make him dance, and make him think the devil Claws at his breech, and yet I will not hurt him. Come now to bed ; and, prove but constant this way, I '11 prove the man you ever wish'd.
Isab. You have blest me. [Exeimt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.— A village.
Enter Silvio, disguised as a rustic.
Sil. What labour and what travail have I run through, And through what cities, to absolve* this riddle ! Diviners, dreamers, schoolmen, deep magicians,! All have I tried ; and all give several meanings. And from all hope of any future happiness. To this place am I come at length, the country ; The people simple, plain, and harmless-witty. Whose honest labours Heaven rewards with plenty
' absolvel^ i. e. solve.
SCENE I.] WOMEN PLEASED. 57
Of corn, wine, oil, which they again, as thankful ",
To their new crops new pastimes celebrate,
And crown their joyful harvests with new voices.
By a rich fanner here I am enter tain'd,
And rank'd among the number of his servants,
Not "guessing what I am, but what he would have me.
Here may be so much wit (though much I fear it)
To undo this knotty question ; and would to Heaven
My fortunes had been hatched with theirs, as innocent,
And never known a pitch above their plainness !
Enter, from a house, Soto, dressed as a morris-dancer^', tciih a proclamation.
Soto. That it is, that it is— what 's this word now I this Is a plaguy word, that it is — r, e, a, — that it is, — reason. By your leave. Master Soto, by your leave, you are too quick,
sir; There 's a strange parlous '-'■' T before the reason., A very tall T, which makes the word hiyli-treason.
Sil. What treason 's that I does this fellow understand himself? [Aside.
Soto. Pitch will infect ; I '11 meddle no more with this gear. — What a devil ails this fellow, this foolish fellow, Being admitted to be one of us too, That are the masters of the sports proceeding. Thus to appear, before me too, unmorris'd "^l — [Aside.
Do you know me, friend i
Sil. You are my master's son, sir.
Soto. And do you know what sports are now in season ?
Sil. I hear there are some a-foot.
" which they again, as thanhful, S^c.^ Heath {MS. Notes) thinks that some- thing has dropt out here, pronouncing the passage, as it now stands, to be nonsense ; and I agree with hira : but the modern editors seem to have found no difficulty in it.
" dressed as a morris-dancer] Added by Weber, and, it would seem, rightly ; for Soto (though May-lord— see note, p. 61) tells us afterwards {ibid.) that he is one of the dancers in the present festivities.
"■ parlous] See note, p. 7.
" unmorris'd] " i. e. not attired as a morris-dancer." Weber.
58 WOMEN PLEASED. [act iv.
Soto. Where are your bells, then ? Your rings, your ribbands, friend I and your clean napkins ^ I Your nosegay in your hat, pinn'd up ? Am not I here My father's eldest son ? and at this time, sir, I would have you know it, though you be ten times his servant, A better man than my father far, lord of this harvest, sir ; And shall a man of my place want attendance ?
Sil. 'Twas want of knowledge, sir, not duty, bred this ; I would have made suit else for your lordship's service.
Soto. In some sort I am satisfied now; mend your manners : But thou art a melancholy felbw, vengeance melancholy, And that may breed an insurrection amongst us :^~ Go to ! I '11 lay the best part of two pots now Thou art in love, and I can guess with whom too ; I saw the wench that twirM^ and twinkled at thee, / !|The other day ; the wench that 's new oome hither, "^ ||The young smug wench.
Sil. You know more than I feel, sir.
Soto. Go to ! I '11 be thy friend, I '11 speak a good word for thee. And thou shalt have my lordship's countenance to her. May be I have had a snap myself ; may be ay, may be no ; We lords are allow'd a little more.
Sil. 'Tis fit, sir. I humbly thank you ; you are too, too tender of me : But what, sir, I beseech you, was that paper Your lordship was so studiously eraploy'd in, When you came out a-doors I
" naphins^ " A napkin formerly meant an handkerchief, as appears from Othello and many other plays." Mason, — who seems not to have known that the " napkins " formed part of the accoutrements of the morris-dancers : they were held in the hand, or (see The Knight of the Burning Pestle, act iv. sc. 5., vol. ii. 214) tied to the shoulders. Kenipe in his Nine Daies Wonder, 1600, tells us that the girl who danced the morris with him at Chelmsford " would haue the olde fashion, with napking on her ar'mes." p. 7, Camden Soc. reprint.
y twir'd'\ " So Ben Jonson, in his Sad Shepherd, act ii. scene 3. — ' Which maids will twire at 'tween their fingers thus.' "
Sympson.
On the passage just cited Gifford observes, " To twire is to leer affectedly, to glance at obliquely or suiTeptitiously, at intervals, &c." Jonson's Works, vi. 280.
SCENE I.] WOMEN PLEASED. S9
Soto. Thou meanest this paper ?
Sil. That, sir, I think.
Soto. Why, 'tis a proclamation, A notable piece of villany, as ever thou heard'st in thy life ; By mine honour, it is.
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 (As arrant a rascal as ever piss'd against post), And this same Silvio, or this foresaid rascal. To bring before her, live or dead ; for which good service The man that brings him has two thousand ducats. Is not this notable matter now ?
Sil. 'Tis so indeed. — (_This proclamation bears my bane about it : Can no rest find me, no private place secure me, But still my miseries like blood-hounds haunt me I Unfortunate young man, which way now guides thee, Guides thee from death ? the country 's laid round for thee. Oh, Claudio, now I feel thy blood upon me ! Now it speaks loudly here, I am sure, against me ; Time now has found it out, and Truth proclaim^l it. And Justice now cries out, I must die for it ! \^ Aside.
Soto. Hast thou read it ?
Sil Yes.
Soto. And dost thou know that Silvio ?
Sil. I never saw him, sir.
Soto. I have, and know him too, I know him as well as I know thee, and better ; And, if I light upon him, for a trick he play'd me once, A certain kind of dog-trick, I '11 so fiddle him ! Two thousand ducats i I 'U so pepper him ! And with that money I '11 turn gentleman, Worth a brown baker's dozen of sucli Silvios.
Sil. There is no staying here ; this rogue will know me. And for the money-sake betray me too : I must bethink me suddenly and safely. {^Aside.
60 WOMEN PLEASED. [act iv.
Enter Bomby dressed as the Hobhy-horse^ , and other Morris-dancers. Soto. Mine own dear lady % have at thy honey-comb ! —
[^Kisses one of the female Morris-dancers. Now, for the honour of our town, boys, trace sweetly !
[_Cr7/ loithin of Arm, arm ! What a vengeance ails this whobub^? pox refuse ^^ 'em! Cannot they let us dance in our own«^ defence here ?
Enter Farmer and Captain. Capt. Arm, honest friends, arm suddenly and bravely, And with your ancient resolutions follow me ! Look how the beacons shew like comets ! your poor neighbours .Run maddingly affrighted through the villages; ! Sienna's Duke is up, burns all before him, llAnd with his sword makes thousand mothers childless. ' Soto. What's this to our morris-dancers ?
Sil This may serve my turn. \^Aside.
Soto. There 's ne"'er a duke in Christendom but loves a
May-game. Capt. At a horse you were always cess'd ; put your son on him, And arm him well ; i' the state's name, I command you : And they that dare go voluntary shall receive reward.
Soto. I dare go no way, sir. This is strange, Master Captain,
y the Hobby-horse'] This important personage in the old morris-dance was represented by a man round whose waist was buckled ^ji_liglit^>Kicker_fr;ime, to which were attached the head, neck, and hinder parts of a horse in paste-board, while the wicker frame and the performer's legs were concealed by a foot-cloth (housing) which reached nearly to the ground. His prancing, curvetting, and neighing were of the most violent description. Various feats of legerdemain were expected from the actor of the Hobby-horse ; and in earlier times a ladle was suspended from the horse's mouth for the purpose of collecting money fi-om the spectators.
^ lady] See note, p. 61.
» whobub] i. e. hubbub : see Todd's Johnson's Did. This form of the word occurs again in Monsieur Thomas, act iv. sc. 2. We have " u-hoobub " in the Two Noble Kinsmen, act ii. sc. 5, as also in Shakespeare's Winter's Tale, act iv. sc. 3.
•» pox refuse] A nonsensical variation, for the sake of avoiding profaueness, of the imprecation God refuse (i. e. God reject).
■: owii] Omitted by Weber.
-cKNE I.] WOMEN PLEASED. 61
Vou cannot be content to spoil our sport here
(Which I do not think your worship 's able to answer),
But you must set us together by the ears, with I know not
who too l We are for the bodily part o' the dance.
Capt. Arm hira suddenly : — This is no time to fool : — I shall return you else A rebel to the general state and duchess ; And how you '11 answer then
Fai'mer. I have no more sons, sir ; This is my only boy ; I beseech you, Master Captain — y Soto. I am a rank coward too, to say the truth, sir ; I never had good luck at buffets neither.
Farmer. Here 's vorty shillings ; spare the child.
Capt. I cannot.
Soto. Are you a man? will you cast away a May-lord''? Shall all the wenches in the country curse you ?
Sil. An ""t please you, captain, I 'II supply his person ('Tis pity their old custom should be frighted) ; Let me have horse and good arms, I ""ll serve willingly. And, if I shrink a foot of ground, hell take me !
Capt. A promising aspect, face full of courage. I '11 take this man, and thank you too ^.
Farmer. There 's for thee ; 'Tis in a clout, but good old gold.
Sil. I thank you, sir.
Farmer. Go, saddle ray forehorse, put his feather on too, (He '11 prance it bravely, friend, he fears no colours,) And take the armour down, and see hira dizen'd.
Soto. Farewell ; and, if thou carriest thyself well in this matter —
*• May-lord] " It was usual at May-games to have a Lord and a Lady of the May [see note, vol. ii. 212]. Both characters occur iu The Two Noble Kins- men [act iii. sc. 5 1 ; and the former is personated by Ralph in The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act iv. sc. o]. In the text, Soto is Lord of the May, and some female villager personated the Lady, as he exclaims on the entrance of the Morris-dancers, — ' Mine own dear lady, have at thy honeycomb !' From the conclusion of the play, it appears probable that this May-lady was Belvidere, so disguised." Webkr.
• and thank you too"] After these words, the modern editors put a bi'eak, as if the sense were incomplete !
62 WOMEN PLEASED. [act iv.
I say no more but this, there must be more May-lords, And I know who are fit.
Sil Dance you ; I '11 fight, sir.
Copt. Away, away !
Sil. Farewell. — I am for thee, captain I [Exiticith Captain.
Farmer. Now to this matter again, my honest fellows ; For, if this go not forward, I foresee, friends. This war will fright our neighbours out o' the villages : Cheer up your hearts ; we shall hear better news, boys.
Bomhyi. Surely I will dance no more, 'tis most ridiculous : I find my wife's instructions now mere '^ verities, My learned wife's ; she often hath pronounced to me My safety, — " Bomby, defy these sports ; thou art damnM
else." This beast of Babylon I will never back again ; His pace is sure profane, and his lewd wi-hies The songs ' of Hymyn and Gymyn in the wilderness.
Farmer. Fie, neighbour Bomby, in your fits again, Your zeal-sweats ? this is not careful, neighbour ; / The Hobby-horse is a seemly Hobby-horse "^ — v
Soto. And as pretty a beast on 's inches, though I say it —
Bomby. The beast is an unseemly and a lewd beast. And got at Rome by the pope's coach-horses ; His mother was the mare of Ignorance.
Soto. Cobbler, thou liest, an thou wert a thousand cobblers !
' theCi captain] Theobald's correction.— Both the folios " the captain " ; and so the modern editors.
s Bombyl To the speeches of this person the prefix in both the folios is " ^06.", which puzzled Sympson and the Editors of 1778, and which Mason understood as Hobbinal, observing " I suppose Bomhy was the short or familiar name for Hobbinal " ! ! Weber saw that it was the abbreviation of Hobby-horse, the character which Bomby represents. — " The remainder of this scene is a very just and a highly humorous banter upon the absurd prejudices of the Puritans, who represented the innocent May-games as remains of popery. Mr, Douce, in his curious dissertation On the Ancient English Morris Dance, — Ilhtst. of Shakspeare, ii. 464, makes the following extract from Thomas Hall's Funehria Flora, the Downfall of May-games, 1661, ' Papists are forward to give the people May-poles ; and the Pope's holiness, with might and main, keeps up his superstitious festivals as a prime prop of his tottering kingdome.' " Weber.
*" merel i- 6- absolute.
' songs'] Theobald's con-ection. — Both the folios " Sons ".
SCENE I.] WOMEN PLEASED. C3
His mother was an honest mare, and a mare of good credit ; I know the mare, and, if need be, can bring witness ; And, in the way of honesty, I tell thoe, Scorned any coach-horse the pope had : thou art foolish, And thy blind zeal makes thee abuse the beast.
Bomhj. I do defy thee, and thy foot-cloth •* too ; And tell thee to thy face, this profane riding, (I feel it in my conscience, and I dare speak it,) This unedified ambling hath brought a scourge upon us ; This hobby-horse sincerity we livM in, War and the sword of slaughter : I renounce it. And put the beast off thus, the beast polluted.
[^Tlu'oios off the hobby -hoi- se. And now no more shall Hope-on-high Bomby '' Follow the painted pipes of worldly pleasures, And, with the wicked, dance the devil's measures. Away, thou pampcr'd jade of vanity ^ i^A.^ '-^^ ^-^ *^*^ ■^'^ Stand at the livery of lewd delights now, And eat the provender of prick-ear''d folly ! My dance shall be to the pipe of persecution.
Farmer. Will you dance no more, neighbour ?
Bomby. Surely, no : Carry the beast to his crib ; I have renounced him And all his works.
Soto. Shall the Hobby-horse be forgot, then "" \ The hopeful Hobby-horse, shall he lie founderM ? If thou dost this, thou art but a cast-away cobbler : My anger ""s up ; think wisely, and think quickly,
3 foot-clolK] See note, p. 60.
'' Hope-on-high liombi/] "This is in ridicule of the absurd Christian names given by the Puritans to their cliildren," &e. Weber.
' Aivay, thou pamper' d jade of vanity'] Another allusion to a Hne in Marlowe'sj Tamburlainc : see note, vol. iii. 1 52.
"• Shall the Hobby-horse be forgot, then?] An almost proverbial expression. Besides the well-known line cited (from some ballad probably) in Shakespeare's Hamlet, act iii. sc. 2 (and in liis Love's Labour's Lost, act iii. sc. 1), —
" For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot," parallel passages are to be found in various eai'ly writoi-s. The allusion is to the omission of the Hobby-horse in the May-games, from which the Puritans, by their preachings and invectives, had succeeded in banishing him for a time.
64 WOMEN PLEASED. [act iv.
And look upon the quondam beast of pleasure : If thou dost this (mark me, thou serious sowter", :Thou bench-whistler of the old tribe of toe-piecers°), |If thou dost this, there shall be no more shoe-mending ; (Every man shall have a special care of his own sole, And in his pocket carry his two confessors, His lingelP and his nawl'' : if thou dost this-^ —
Farmer. He will dance again, for certain.
Bomhy. I cry out on 't ! 'Twas the fore-running sin brought in those tilt-staves They brandish 'gainst the church, the devil calls May-poles.
Farmer *'. Take up your horse again, and girth him to you, And girth him handsomely, good neighbour Bomby.
Bomhy. I spit at him.
Soto. Spit in the horse' face, cobbler ! Thou out-of-tune-psalm-singing slave, spit in his visnomy !
Bomhy. I spit again ; and thus I rise against him, Against this beast, that signified destruction, Fore-shew'd i' the falls of monarchies ^
8oto. Y the face of hhn ! Spit such another spit, by this hand, cobbler, I '11 make you set a new piece o' your nose there. Take't up, I say, and dance without more bidding, And dance as you were wont ; you have been excellent, And art still, but for this new nicety*. And your wife's learned lectures : take up the Hobby-horse ;
" sowter'\ "i. e. cobbler." Weber.
° toe-piecers] Mason's correction. — The folios "<oe-peeces" and ^oc-pieces" ; and so the modern editors.
P lingel} Or lingle, i. e. a thread or thong used by shoemakers and cobblers. The folios « Yugell " and « Yugel."
q nawl'] i. e. awl, — " by," says Nares, " a famihar and easy transmutation, a nawl, instead of an awl." Gloss, in v.
' Farmer ] Omitted by mistake in the first folio. The second folio " Soto" ; and so the modern editors : but the words "good neighbour" determine that the speech belongs to the Farmer (who twice before calls Bomby " neighbour"): Soto is too angry at the cobbler to address him in such terms.
* Fore-shew'd V the falls of monarchies} i. e. as Weber rightly explains it, foreshewed in the falls of the four monarchies. — Sympson, at Seward's sugges- tion, printed ^' Fore-shew'd falls of monarchies " ; and so the Editors of 1778.
' nicety] i. e. scrupulousness, preciseness.
scKNE II.] WOMEN PLEASED. 65
Come, 'tis a thing thou hast lov'd with all thy heart, Bomby,
And wouldst do still but for the round-breech'd brothers :
You were not thus in the niorning : take 't up, i say ;
Do not delay, but do it. You know I am officer ;
And I know 'tis unfit all these good fellows
Should wait the cooling of your zealous porridge :
Choose w-hether you will dance, or have me execute :
I '11 clap your neck i' the stocks, and there 1 '11 make you
Dance a whole day, and dance with these at night too.
You mend old shoes well ; mend your old manners better ;
And suddenly see you leave off this sincereness,
This new hot batch, borrowed from some brown baker',
Some learned brother, or I '11 so bait you for 't !
Take it quickly up.
Bomby. I take my persecution ; "^{Takes up the hobby-horse. And thus I am forcM, a by- word to my brethren.
Soto. Strike up, strike up, strike merrily !
Farmer. To it roundly! [A Morris-dance.
Now to the harvest- feast ; then sport again, boys ! [Exeunt.
SCENE l\.—The open country.
Enter Silvio, in armour. Sil. What shall I do ? live thus unknown and base still I Or thrust myself into the head o' the battle, And there, like that I am, a gentleman, And one that never fear'd the face of Danger (So in her angry eyes she carried honour). Fight nobly, and (to end my cares) die nobly ?
SONG [withi7i'\. Silvio, go on, and raise thy noble mind To noble ends ; fling coarse base thoughts behind : Silvio, thou son of ever-living fame, Now aim at virtue and a noble name :
« hrown baker] Synipson (who proposes, very unnecessarily, to read " bake " for " bait " in the next line) observes that " the Brownists are the people against whom the satire here was principally levelled." It is possible that iu the present speech Soto may use the epithet " brown" with some allusion to that sect ; but he has previously (p. £9) employed the expression " brown baker " (wliich was a very common one) without any such allusion. VOL. vn, 1"
66 WOMEN PLEASED. [act n.
Silvio, consider, honour is not won,
Nor virtue reaeh'd, till some brave thing be done.
Thy country calls thee now, she burns and bleeds ;
Now raise thyself, young man, to noble deeds :
Into the battle, Silvio ! there seek forth
Danger and blood ; by them stands sacred Worth.
Sil. What heavenly voice is tliis that follows me ? This is the second time 't has waited on me, Since I was arm'd and ready for the battle : It names me often, steels my heart with courage, And in a thousand sweet notes comforts me.
Enter Belvidere, disguised as a deformed old woman.
What beldam 's this 'I how old she is, and ugly !
Why does she follow me l [^ Aside.
Bel. Be not dismay'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.
Sil. Though she be old, and of a crooked carcase, Her voice is like the harmony of angels. [^Aside.
Bel. Thou art my darling ; all my love dwells on thee, The son of virtue ; therefore I attend thee. Inquire not what I am ; I come to serve thee ; For, if thou be'st inquisitive, thou hast lost me. A thousand long miles hence ray dwelling is, Deep in a cave, where, but mine own, no foot treads : There, by mine art, I found what danger, Silvio, And deep distress of heart, thou wert grown into ; A thousand leagues I have cut through empty air. Far swifter than the sailing rack" that gallops Upon the wings of angry winds, to seek thee.
Sometimes o'er a swelling tide,
On a dolphin's back, I ride ;
Sometimes pass the earth below,
And through th^ unmoved centre go ;
Sometimes in a flame of fire.
Like a meteor, 1 aspire ;
" rack] i. c. thin vapoury clouds : see note, vol. ii. 120.
stKNE III.] WOMEN PLEASED. 67
Sometimes in mine own shape, tiius,
When I help the virtuous :
M en of honourable minds
Command my art in all his kinds.
Pursue the noble thought of war ;
From thy guard I '11 not be far :
Get thee worship on thy foe ;
Lasting fame is gotten so :
Single Sienna''s Duke alone ;
Hear thy friends, thy country groan.
And with thy manly arm strike sure ;
Then thou hast wrought thine own free cure. Sil. Some sibyl, sure, some soul Heaven loves, and favours, And lends her their free powers to work their wonders : How she incites my courage ! \^Aside.
Bel. Silvio,
I knew thee many days ago ;
Foresaw thy love to Belvidere,
The duchess' daughter and her heir ;
Knew she lov'd thee, and know what past,
NMien you were found i' the castle fast
In one another's arms ; foresaw
The taking of you, and the law ;
And so thy innocence I lovM,
The deepest of my skill I prov'd :
Be rul'd by me ; for, to this hour,
I have dwelt about thee with my power. Sil. I will, and in the course of all observe thee ; For thou art sure an angel good sent to me. Bel. Get thee gone, then, to the fight ;
Longer stay but robs thy right.
When thou grow'st weary, I '11 be near :
Then think on beauteous Belvidere ; , For every precious thought of her,
I '11'' lend thine honour a new spur.
When all is done, meet here at night :
Go, and be happy in the fight !
" I 'II] Sympsoii jnoposed to read " Will"; wliicli was adopted bv the Editors of 17 78 and Weber.
F 2
()8 WOMEN PLEASED. [act iv.
Sil. I certainly believe I shall do nobly ; And that I '11 bravely reach at too, or die. [Exeunt severalli/.
SCENE III.— Florence. A room in the house of Lopez.
Enter Clacdio''' disguised as he/ore, and Penurio.
Clau. Is she so loving still ?
Pen. She is mad with love, As mad as ever unworm'd dog was, signior ; And does so weep, and curse, for your prevention, Your crosses in your love ! It frets me too ; I am fain away to nothing, to a spindle. Grown a mere man of mat, no soul within me : Pox o' my master ! sir, will that content you ?
Clau. This rogue but cozens me, and she neglects me ; Upon my life, there are some other gamesters^ Nearer the wind than I, and that prevents me. — [Aside.
Is there no other holds acquaintance with her ?
Prithee, be true, be honest ; do not mock me ; Thou know'st her heart — no former interest She has vow'd a favour to, and cannot handsomely Go off, but by regaining such a friendship ? There are a thousand handsome men, young, 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 cunningly : 1 1 am a stranger yet.
Pen. You are all she looks for ; And, if there be any other, she neglects all, And all for you: I would you saw how grievously
And with what hourly lamentations
Clau. I know thou flatter'st me : tell mo but truth- Look here, look well — the best meat in the dukedom,
{_Shezvs a lobster.
* Enter Claudio] Weber added « ivilh a wallet " ; but, as it is evident tliat Claudio (see the fifth speecli of this scene) displays only one dainty to Penurio, there could be no need for such a conveyance.
■^ gameslers] i. e. men of intrigue : see note, vol. vi. 222. •
SCENE III.] WOMEN PLEASED. 69
The rarest and the choicest of all diets ! This will I give thee, but to satisfy me (That is, not 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 to it, A wench, if it desire one.
Pen. All this, signior !
Clau. All, and a greater far than this
Pen. A greater !
Clau. If thou deserve by telling truth.
Pen. A wench too !
Clau. Or any thing : but, if you play the knave now, The cozening knave, besides the loss of this (In which thou hast parted with a paradise), I ne'er will give thee meat more, not a morsel ; No smell of meat, by my means, shall 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 thing might call my life in question, Follow'd with all the tortures time could think on, — Give me but time to eat this lovely lobster, This alderman o' the sea, and give me wine to him, — I would reveal all ; and, if that all were too little, More than I knew. Bartello holds in with her, The captain of the citadel ; but you need not fear him, His tongueJ&_tlis.4ti|^stjvea£on that he carries ; He is old and out of use : there are some other. Men young enough, handsome, and bold enough, Could they come to make their game once ; but they want, sir. They want i\ve\unde quare\i\iey are laid by, then. You only are the man shall knock the nail in
Enter Bartkt.lo. Bart. How now, Penurio ? Pen. Your worship 's fairly met, sir. — You shall hear further from me : steal aside, sir.
70 WOMEN PLEASED. f act iv.
Clau. Remember your master for those chains.
Pen. They are ready, sir. [^Exit Claudio.
Bart. What young thing 's this ? by his habit he 's a mer- chant ; I fear he trades my way too [Aside]. — You dried dog-fish, What bait was that 1
Pen. Who, sir I the thing went hence now ? A notable young whelp.
Bart To what end, sirrah ?
Pen. Came to buy chains and rings, is to be married ; An ass, a coxcomb, h'as nothing in his house, sir. I warrant, you think he came to see my mistress ?
Bart. I doubt it shrewdly.
Pen. Away, away ! "'tis foolish : He has not the face to look upon a gentlewoman ; A poor skimm'd thing ; his mother's maids are fain, siiv) To teach him how to kiss, and, against he is married, To shew him on which side the stirrop stands. j
Bart. That is a fine youth.
Pen. Thou wouldst hang thyself. That thou hadst half his power, thou empty pot-gun^!
\_Aside.
Bart. Am I come fit, Penurio ?
Pen. As fit as a fiddle ; My master 's now abroad about his business.
Bart. When thou cam'st to me home to-day, I half sus- pected My wife was jealous, that she whisper'd to thee.
Pen. You deserve well the whilst \_ Aside'].— There '^ no such matter ; She talk'd about some toys ray master must bring to her, You must not know of.
Bart. I '11 take no note, Penurio.
Pen. No, nor you shall not, till you have it soundly. This is the bravest Capitono Pompo I But I shall pump you anon, sir. [_Aside.
y pot-gun'] See note, vol. iii. 253.
I
-ciNK III.] WOMEN PLEASED. 71
Enter Isabella.
Isab. Q\\, my Bartello !
Bart. You pretty rogue, you little rogue, you sweet rogue ! — Away, Penurio ; go and walk i th' Horse- Fair.
Isuh. You do not love me.
Bart. Thou liest, thou little rascal ! — There, sirrah ; to your sentry. \_Gives him money.
Pen. How the colt itches ! I'll help you to a curry-comb shall claw you.
\_Aside, and then exit.
Isab. And how much dost thou love me ?
Bart. Let 's go in quickly ; I '11 tell thee presently, I '11 measure it to thee.
hah. No busses first I Sit o' my knee, my brave boy, My valiant boy : do not look so fiercely on me ; Thou wilt fright me with thy face : come, buss again,
chick ; Smile in my face, you mad thing.
Bart. I am mad, indeed, wench ; 'Precious, I am all o' fire !
Isab. I '11 warm thee better.
Bart. I '11 warm thee too, or I '11 blow out my bellows : Ha, you sweet I'ogue, you loving rogue ! a boy now, . A soldier I will get, shall prove a fellow.
Enter Jaquenet icith Penurio.
Jaq. Mistress, look to yourself; my master's coming.
Bart. The devil come and go with him !
Pen. The devil 's come indeed ; he brings your wife, sir.
Iscd). We are undone, undone, then !
Bart. My wife with him ! Why, this is a dismal day.
Pen. They are hard by too, sir.
Bart. I must not, dare not see her.
Imh. Nor my husband. For twenty thousand pound.
Bart. That I were a cat now,
72 WOMEN PLEASED. [act ir.
Or any thing could run into a bench-hole^ !
Saint Anthony's fire upon the rogue has brought her !
Where shall I be ?— Just in the nick o' the matter,
When I had her at my mercy ! [Aside]— Thmk, for Heaven-
My wife ! all the wild Furies hell has [sake !
Pen. Up the chimney !
Bart. They '11 smoke me out there presently.
Isab. There, there, it must be there ; We are all undone else ; it must be up the chimney.
Bart. Give me a ladder.
Lab. You must use your art, sir ; Alas, we have no ladders !
Bart. Pox o' thy husband ! Does he never mend his house ?
Pen. No, nor himself neither. Up nimbly, sir, up nimbly !
Bart. Thou know'st I am fat, Thou merciless lean rogue.
Pen. Will you be kill'd ? For, if he take you
Bart. Lend me thy shoulder.
Pen. Soft, sir ; [Bartello creeps up the chimney. '
You '11 tread my shoulder-bones into my sides else. Have you fast hold o' the bars ?
Bart, \joithin'] A vengeance bar 'em !
Isab. Patience, good captain, patience ; quickly, quickly !
Bart, [within] Do you think I am made of smoke ?
Pen. Now he talks of smoke, What if my master should call for fire ?
Bart, [tvithin] Will ye martyr me ?
Isab. He must needs have it.
Bart, [xoithiyi] Will ye make me bacon ?
Isab. We'll do the best we can. — Are all things ready ?
Pen. All, all ; I have 'em all.
Isab^. Go, let 'em in, then. \_Exit Penurio.
Not a word now, on your life !
^ bench-holer^ i. e. privy. The word occurs in Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra, act iv. sc. 7 ; and is indeed common enough. " IsaU] Both the folios « Bar".
SCENE III.] WOMEN PLEASED. 73
Bart. \icithin\ I hang like a meteor.
Enter Lopez and Rhodope.
Lopez. You are welcome, lady.
Rhod. You are too, too courteous ; But I shall make amends. — Fair Isabella
Isab. ^Velcorae, my worthy friend, most kindly welcome !
Rhod. I hear on 't, and I '11 fit him for his foolery.
Lopez. Some sweet-meats, wife ; some sweet-meats pre- sently.
Bart, [icithhi] Oh, my sour sauce ! [«/
Lopez. Away quick, Isabella. \^Exit Isabella.
Did you hear him ?
Rhod. Yes, yes, perfectly : proceed, sir.
Lopez. Speak loud enough. — Dare you at length but pity me?
Rhod. Faith, sir, you have usM so many reasons to me, And those so powerfully
Lopez, Keep this kiss for me. \_Kisses her.
Bart. \icithin^ And do I stand and hear this ?
Rhod. This for me, sir : \^Kisses him.
This is some comfort now. Alas, my husband — But wliy do I think of so poor a fellow, So wretched, so debosh'd '' ?
Bart, [icithhi] That 's I : I am bound to hear it.
Rhod. I dare not lie with him, he is so rank a whore- master.
Lopez. And that 's a dangerous point.
Rhod. Upon my conscience, sir, He would stick a thousand base diseases on me.
Bart, [loithin] And now must I say nothing !
Lopez. I am sound, lady.
lEAoc?. That "'s it that makes me love you.
\hopez. Let 's kiss again, then.
Rhod. Do, do.
Bart. S^withii{\ Do ! the devil And the grand pox do with ye !
Lopez. Do you hear him ? well
i" debosh'd] " The old way of spelling ami pronouncing debauched, which the modern editors silently substitute." Weuek. The second folio has " de bauch'd".
74 WOMEN PLEASED. [activ.
Re-enter Penurio and Isabella. Now, what 's the news with you i
Pen. The sound of war, sir, Comes still along ; the duke will charge the city : We have lost, they say.
Lopez. What shall become of me, then. And my poor wealth ?
Bart, {ivithhi] Even hangVl, I hope.
Rhod. Remove your jewels presently, and what You have of wealth, 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. Most happily I have two boys that use to sweep fouFd chimneys ; Truly I brought 'em, sir, to mock your worship For the great fires you keep and the full diet.
Lopez. I forgive thee, knave. Where are they ?
Pen. Here, sir, here.
Enter tim Boys.
Monsieur Black, will your small worship mount ?
Fii'st Boy. Madam, e be com to creep up into your chimney, and make you clean as any lady in de world ; ma litla, litla frera and e.— Chanta, frere, chanta. iSecoud Boy sings.
Pen. Come, monsieur, mounte, mounte ; mount, Monsieur Mustard-pot. [Second Boy sings'.
First Boy. Monsieur, 6 have dis for votra barba'^ pie ta YOU, monsieur.
« Second Boy sings'] Here (as also above) both the folios have ''Boy sings." The Second Boy is evidently intended : and the present stage-direction would seem to mean that, instead of replying to Peuurio's exhortation to « mount," he breaks out into a song. It appears (see what follows) that this
Second Boy resembled the sorceress in Thalaha, "and still her speech was
song."
■^ dis for votra barba] Must mean— this brush for your beard : see note, vol. v. 431. Seward chose to give this speech to " 2 Boy": but see the pre- ceding note.
SCENE III.] WOMEN PLEASED. 75
Pe/i. Mounte, monsieur, mounte ; dere be some fine tings. First Boy. He^ will creep like de ferret, monsieur. Pen. Dere in the^ chimney.
\^The Second Boy creeps up the chimney, and sings above. First Boy. He^ be de sheild du slianson'^ madam.
^Goes in behind the arras\ Pen. There 's a bird''s nest ; I would have you climb it, monsieur : Up, my fine singing monsieur ! that 's a fine monsieur ! Lopez. AVatch him, he do not steal. Pen. I warrant you, sir. Lopez. These boys are knavish. Pen. 1 11 look to him tithlyj. ^ (First Boy. [icithin'] Madam, here be de rat, de rat, madam !
Re-enter Bartello, icitk the Second Boy singing on his shoulder., and followed hy the First Boy.
Lopez. Lord, what comes here \ a walking apparition \
Isab. Saint Christopher !
Rhod. Mercy o' me, what is it ? How like my husband it looks !
Barf. Get you down, devil ; I '\l break your neck else. Was ever man thus chimney'd I
Lopez. Go, pay the boys well ; see them satisfied.
Pen. Come, Monsieur Devils ; come, my blackberries ; 1 '11 butter ye o' both sides.
' He] So the second folio. — The first folio "Me"; and so the modern editors ; but, if that reading be right, the prefix to the speech must be " Sec. Boy ": and compare the next speech of the First Boy.
' the] Silently altered to " de " by Seward ; and so his successors.— The stage-direction, after this speech, in both the folios, is merely "The Boy above singing".
K He] Silently altered to " Here " by Seward ; and so his successors. Seward also gave this speech to " 2 Boy".
>» de sheild du shanson] i. e. the child for singing, the singing boy. — Both the folios have "de sheilde due shauson"; and so Seward. The Editors of 1778 corrected the last of these words to " shason " !
• Goes in behind the arras] So both the folios, — a stage-direction which I have not ventured to alter.
J tithly] i.e. tightly (as before, vol. vi. 455). So the first folio. — The second folio " tightly"; and so Sympson and the Editors of 1778.
76 WOMEN PLEASED. [act iv.
First Boy. Adieu, madam, adieu, madam.
[^Exeunt Penurio and Boys.
Isab. Nay, even look, sir : are you cooFd now, captain ?
Bart. I am cuckolded'', and fooPd to boot too, Fool'd fearfully, foolM shamefully.
Lopez. You are welcome, sir : I am glad I have any thing within these doors, sir, To make you merry : you love my wife, I thank you ; You have shew'd your love.
Bart. Wife, am I this ? this odd matter, This monstrous thing ?
Rhod. You ought, but yet you are not : I have been bold with you, sir, but yet not basely ; As I have faith, I have not.
Lopez. Sir, believe it, 'Twas all meant but to make you feel your trespass : We knew your hour, and all this fashion'd for it.
Bart. Were you o' the plot too ?
Isab. Yes, by my troth, sweet captain.
Bart. You will forgive me, wife ?
Rhod. You will deserve it ?
Bart. Put that to the venture.
Rhod. Thus am I friends again, then ; And, as you ne'er had gone astray, thus kiss you.
Bart. And I ""11 kiss you : — and you, too, ask forgiveness : Kiss my wife, Lopez ; 'tis but in jest, remember. — And now, all friends together to my castle, Where we '11 all dine, and there discourse these stories ; And let him be chimney-swept, in 's lust that glories !
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.— r^e open country.
Enter, severally/, Silvio in armour, and Belvidere disguised as before. Sil. Hail, reverent dame ! Heaven wait upon thy studies ! Bel. You are well met, son : what, is the battle ended ? Sil. Mother, 'tis done.
•< cuckolded'] Both the folios " cuckoUed "; and so perhaps the author wrote (see Todd's .Tuhnsn7i's Diet, m v. Cuckold).
y
scENiiiv.J WOMEN PLEASED. 77
Bel. How has thy honour prosper'd ? Sil. The duchess has the day ; Sienna/s_prisoaer ; Arm'd with thy powerful art, this arm dismounted him, Receiv'd him then on foot, and in fair valour Forc'd him mine own : this jewel I took from him, (It hung upon his casque',) the victor's triumph ; And to the duchess now a prisoner I have render'd him ; come off again unknown, mother. Bel. 'Tis 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 marriage next day to begin. Dost thou know what 's hid within ?
\Opens the jewel. 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 am I in this rich spoil, this picture ! For ever will I keep it here, here, mother, For ever honour it : how oft, how chastely Have I embrac^l the life of this, and kissM it !
Bel. The day draws on that thou must home return. And make thy answer to the duchess' question :
I know it troubles thee ; for, if thou fail in 't
Sil Oh, I must die !
Bel. Fear not, fear not ; I '11 be nigh :
' this jewel I took from him,
{It hung upon his casqufi)] " This passage confirais Mr. Gifford's observa- tion that ' our ancestors gave the name of jewel, not so much to a single stone, as to a cluster of thera set in order by the lapidary, and, in general, to any little trinket or ornament of gold and precious stones.' Note on Massinger's fVorks, iv. 217. ed. 1H13. In the present instance, the jewel contained the picture of Belvidere, which was only seen on touching a Ki)ring by which the cover opened." Weber (the note altered).
■" prince's] The folios " princesse " and " princess".
" burgonef] " i. e. helmet." Wedek.
78 WOMEN PLEASED. [act iv.
Cast thy trouble on my back :
Art nor cunning shall not lack
To preserve thee, still to keep
What thy envious foemen seek.
GoT)oldly home, and let thy mind
No distrustful crosses find ;
All shall happen for the best :
Souls walk through sorrows that are blest. <S7/. Then I go confident. Bel. But first, my son,
A thankful service must be done :
The good old woman for her pain,
When every thing stands fair again,
Must ask a poor boon, and that granting,
There 's nothing to thy journey wanting. Sil. Except the trial of my soul to mischief, And, as I am a knight, and love mine honour, 1 grant it, whatsoever.
Bel. Thy pure soul ^
Shall never sink for me, nor howlj Sil. Then any thing. Bel. When I shall ask, remember. Sil. If I forget, Heaven's goodness forget me ! Bel. On thy journey, then, awhile,
To the next cross-way and stile
I '11 conduct thee. Keep thee true
To thy mistress and thy vow.
And, let all their envies fall,
I '11 be with thee, and quench all. [Exeunt.
WOMEN PLEASED. 79
ACT V.
SCENE I. — Florence. An apartment in the Palace.
Enter Duchess, Dtke of Sxe:^^ a prisoner, and Lords.
Dulie. Lady, the stubborn war 's more mild than you are ; That allows ransom, and the prisoner taken
Duch. ^^''e must not be too hasty : remember, sir. The wrong and violence you have offer'd us ; Burnt up our frontier-towns, made prey before you Both of our beasts and corn ; slain our dear subjects ; Open'd the fountain-eyes of thousand widows That daily fling their curses on your fury : What ordinary satisfaction can salve this ? What hasty-thought-on ransom give a remedy ? You must excuse us yet ; we '11 take more counsel : In the mean time, not as a prisoner. But as a noble prince, we entertain you.
Duke. I am at your mercy, lady ; 'tis my fortune, My stubborn fate ; the day is yours, you have me : The valour of QneLginorle man has cross'd me.
Jross'd me and all my hope ; for when the battles \Vere at theTTottest game of all their furies, Anixonqucst ready then to crown me yictor. One sinLdi' man broke in, one sword, one virtue. And by his great example thousands foUow'd ; — Oh, how 1 shame to think on 't ! how it shakes me ! — Nor could our strongest head then stop his fury. But, like a tempest, bore the field before him. Till he arrivM at me ; with me he buckled ; A while T held him play ; at length his violence Beat me from my saddle, then on foot pursu'd me, There triumphed once again, then took me prisoner : When T was gone, a fear possess'd my people.
Duck. One single arm, in a just cause, Heaven prospers.
80 WOMEN PLEASED. [act v.
Is not this stranger-knight as yet discover'd, That we may give his virtue a due honour ?
First Lord. Not yet, that we hear, madam ; but to that purpose Two days ago we pubUsh'd proclamations.
Enter Soto icith a trumpet, and Silvio in armour.
Soto. Oh, dainty duchess, here I bring that knight Before thy fragrant face, that warhke wight, He that Sienna's Duke, and all his louts, Beat (as the proverb seemly says) to clouts ; He that unhors'd the man of fame to boot, And bootless taught his grace to walk a-foot ; He that your writings, packM to every pillar, Promis'd promotion to, and store of siller ; That very man I set before thy grace. And once again pronounce, this man it was.
Duch. A pretty foolish squire : what must the knight be ?
Duke. Some juggler, or some madman.
Sil. I was not so. When thy faint troops in flocks I beat before me ; When through the thickest of thy warlike horse I shot myself, even to thy standard, duke, And there found thee, there singled thee, there shew'd thee The temper of my sword. 'Tis true, thou stood'st me, And, like a noble soldier, bidst me welcome ; And this I '11 say, more honour in that arm I found and tried, than all thy army carried : What follows, thy imprisonment can tell thee.
Duke. His fair relation carries truth and virtue ; And by those arms I see (for such were his, So old, so rusty), this may be he that forc^l me.
Sil. Do you know this jewel ? from your casque I rent it, Even as I clos'd, and forc'd you from your saddle : Do you now remember me ?
Duke. This is the valour, Madam ; for certain, he ; it must be he ; That day I wore this jewel : you remember it ?
T>uch. Yes, very well : not long before, T sent it.
SCENE 1.] WOMEN PLEASED. 81
Duke. That day I lost this jewel, in fight I lost it ; 1 felt his strokes, and felt him take it from mo ; T wore it in my casque. — Take it again, sir ; Vou won it nobly, 'tis the prize of honour.
Soto. My father and myself are made for ever ! {^Aside.
Ditch. Kneel down, brave sir. Thus, my knight first I raise you ; — [Silvio kneels : the Duchess I'aises him ; and
^Attendants give him a sicord and staff. . / 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.
[Silvio lifts the visor of his helmet. How ! Silvio ! Have I on thee bestow'd this love, this honour ? The treasons thou hast wrought set off with favours ? — l^narm him presently. — Oh, thou foul traitor,
I Attendants seize him. Traitor to me, mine honour, and my country, Thou kindler of these wars !
Sil. Mistake not, madam.
Duch. Away with him toprison ! See him safe kept. — The law shall shortly, sirrah. Find fitter titles for you than I gave you.
Soto. This is the youth that kill'd me ; I'll be quit with him :
What a blind rogue^^'s T, I could never know him !
{_ Aside. An 't please your grace, I claim the benefit Of the proclamation that proclaim'd him traitor ; 1 brought him in.
Duc/i. Thou shalt have thy reward for 't.
Soto. Let him be hang'd or drown'd, then.
Diich. Away with him !
Sil. Madam, I crave your promise first ; you arc tied to it, You have pass'd your princely word.
Duch. Prove it, and take it.
Sil. This is the day aj)pointod. Appointed by your grace, for my appearance. To answer to the question.
Duck. I remember it.
vol,. VI i. a
82 WOMEN PLEASED. [act v.
Sil. I claim it, then.
Duch. If you perform it not, The penalty you claim too.
Sil. I not repent it. If I absolveP the words?
Duch. Your life is free, then. You have drawn a speedy course, above my wishes, To my revenge : be sure you hit it right, Or I '11 be sure you shall not scape the danger.
Sil. My rest is upi now, madam.
Duch. Then play it cunningly.
Sil. Now, where 's the hag 2 where now are all her promises She would be with me, strengthen me, inform me ? My death will now be double death, ridiculous : She was wont still to be near, to feel my miseries. 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 staggers ! Till this hour never fear nor doubt possessed me : She cannot come, she will not come, she has fool'd me, — Sure, she is the devil^ — has drawn me on to ruin. And now to death bequeaths me in my danger. \_ Aside.
Duke. He stands distracted, and his colour changes.
Duch. I have given him that will make his blood forsake him, Shortly his life.
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 every where he looks ! he 's at last cast.
P absolve'^ i. e. solve.
1 My rest is up'^ " i. e. my stake is laid, by which I must abide." Mason. See note, vol. iii. 45, where I have referred to a long article in the Gloss, of Nares, who confines the expression to the game of primero. Gifford, however, says that " to appropriate this term to any particular game, as is sometimes done, is extremely incorrect ; since it was anciently applied to cards, to dice, to bowls, in short to any amusement of chance, where money was wagered, or, to use a phrase of the times, set up." Note on Massinger's Works,\\. 21. ed. 1813. At any rate, Nares has shewn that the term was chiefly used at primero.
SCENE I.] WOMEN PLEASED. 83
Enter Belvidere, disguised as hefore, who secretly gives Silvio a \ paper ^ and exitl\
Duke. His colour comes again fresh.
Duck. 'Tis a flash, sir, Before the flame burns out. — Can you yet answer ?
Sil. Yes, madam, now I can.
Duch. I fear you '11 fail in 't.
Sil. And do not think my silence a presage Or omen to my end ; you shall not find it ; I am bred a soldier, not an orator. Madam, peruse this scroll ; let that speak for me,
\_Gives paper. And, as you are royal, wrong not the construction !
Duch. By Heaven, you shall have fair play !
Sil. I shall look for 't.
First Lord [reads],
QUESTION,
Tell me tchat is that onlyjhing.
For tvhich all ivomeilJong ; Yet having what they most desire.
To have it does them wrong ?
ANSWER.
'2'is not to be chaste, nor fair, {Such gifts malice may impair,) Richly trimm'd, to xoalk or ride. Or to icanton unespied ; To preserve an honest name. And so to give it vp to fame ; These are toys. In good or ill They desire to have their will : J I Yet, lohcji they have it, they abuse it, \For they know not how to use it.
Duch. You have answcr'd right, and gain'd your life ; I
give it. Sil. Oh, happy hag ! [Aside.] — But, my most gracious madam, Your promise tied a nobler favour to me.
a 2
8-t WOMEN PLEASED. [act v.
Duck. 'Tis true ; my daughter too.
Sil, I hope you will keep it.
Duch. 'Tis not in my power now ; she is long since wan- der'd, Stoln from the court and me ; and what I have not I cannot give. No man can tell me of her, Nor no search find her out ; and if not Silvio, Which strongly I believe
Sil. Mock me not, lady ; For, as I am a servant to her virtue, Since my first hour of exile, I ne'er saw her \},
First Lord. That she is gone, 'tis too, too true, and lamen- table : Our last hope was in you.
Sii. What do I here '", then, And wherefore have I life bestowed and honour ? To what end do I walk ? for men to wonder at, And fight, and fool ? Pray you, take your honours from me, (My sorrows are not fit companions for 'em,) And, when you please, my life. — Art thou gone, mistress ? And wander'st Heaven knows where ? This vow I make thee. That till I find thee out, and see those fair eyes. Those eyes that shed their lights and life into me, Never to know a friend, to seek a kindred, To rest where pleasure dwells, and painted glory ; But through the world, the wide world, thus to wander. The wretched world, alone, no comfort with me. But the mere meditations of thy goodness ! Honour and greatness, thus adieu !
Re-enter Belvidere, disguised as be/ore.
Bel. Stay, Silvio : — And, lady, sit again ; I come for justice.
Sil. What would she now ?
Bel. To claim thy promise, Silvio ; The boon thou swor'st to give me.
■" here] The folios have " liearo " and " hear " ; and, thougli the preceding editors had rightly given " here ", Weber deliberately restored the old mis- print !
SCENE I.] WOMEN PLEASED. 85
» Duke. What may this be ? A woman or a devil ?
Duch. 'Tis a witch, sure ; And by her means he came to untwist this riddle.
Sil. That I am bound to her for my life, mine honour, ; And many other thousand ways for comfort, / I here confess ; confess a promise too, j That what she would ask me to requite these favours, I Within the endeavour of my life to grant, VI would ; and here I stand, my word's full master.
Bel. I wish no more : — great lady, witness with me : — The boon I crave for all my service to thee, Is now to be thy wife, to grant me marriage.
Sil. How ! for to marry thee ! ask again, woman ; Thou wilful woman, ask again !
Bel. Xo more, sir.
Sil. Ask land, and life !
Bel. I ask thee for a husband.
Soto. Marry her, and beat her into gunpowder ; She would make rare crackers.
Sil. Ask a better fortune : Thou art too old to marry ; I a soldier, And always married to my sword.
Bel. Thy word, fool ! Break that, and I ""ll break all thy fortunes yet.
Duch. Ho shall not ; 1 am witness to his faith, and I '11 compel it.
Duke. 'Tis fit you hold your word, sir.
Sil. Oh, most wretched !
Duch. This was a fortune now beyond my wishes ; For now my daughter's free, if e'er I find her.
Duke. But not from me.
Duch. You are sharer in this happiness. Myself will wait upon this marriage, And do the old woman all the honour possible.
Duke. I "11 lead the knight ; and what there wants in dal- liance, We '11 take it out in drink.
Sil. Oh, wretched Silvio ! l^Exeunf.
86 WOMEN PLEASED. [act v.
SCENE II. — A room in the house o/" Lopez.
Enter Lopez and Isabella.
Lopez. Hast thou sent for him ?
Isab. Yes.
Lopez. A young man, say'st thou ?
Isah. Yes, very young, and very amorous.
Lopez. And handsome ?
Isah. As the town affords.
Lopez. And dar'st thou Be so far good, and mistress of thine honour. To sHght these ?
Isah. For my husband's sake, to curse 'em : And, since you have made me mistress of my fortune, Never to point at any joy but husband. I could have cozenM you ; but so much I love you. And now so much I weigh the estimation Of an unspotted wife
Lopez. I dare believe thee ; .
And never more shall doubt torment my spirit.3
Enter Penurio, drunk.
Isab. How now, Penurio I
Pen. The thing is coming, mistress.
Lopez. I '11 take my standing.
Pe7i. Do ; and I '11 take mine. \_Exit Lopez.
Isab. Where didst thou leave him ?
Pen. I left him in a cellar, Where he has paid me tightly, paid me home, mistress ; We had an hundred and fifty healths to you, sweet mistress. And threescore and ten damnations to my master, ii Mistress, shall I speak a foolish word to you ? '
Isah. What 's that, Penurio ? — The fellow's drunk. \_Aside.
Pen. I would fain know your body.
Isah. How 's that ? how 's tKa?f, prithee ?
Pen. I would know it carnally ; I would conglutinate.
SCENE II.] WOMEN PLEASED. 87
Isah. The reason, sirrah ?
Pen. Lobster, sweet mistress, lobster.
Isah. Thy master hears.
Pen. Lobster, sweet master, lobster.
Isab. Thou art the most precious rogue !
Pen. Most precious lobster !
Enter Claudio, disguised as before,
Isab. Do you see who 's here ? go sleep, you drunken rascal !
Pe7i. Remember you refuse me, arm'd in lobster. [Exit.
Isab. Oh, my lost Rugio ! welcome, welcome, welcome ! A thousand welcomes here I '11 seal.
Clau. Pray you, stay, lady : Do you love me ever at this rate ? or is the fit now, By reason of some wrong done by your husband. More fervent on you ?
Isab. Can I choose but love thee ? Thou art my martyr ; thou hast suffer'd for me, My sweet, sNveet Rugio !
Clau. Do you do this seriously ? 'Tis true, I would be entertainM thusA
Isab. These are nothing. No kisses, no embraces, no endearments. To those
Claii. Do what you will.
Isab. Those that shall follow, Those I will crown our love withal. Why sigh you ? Why look you sad, my dear one ?
Clau. Nay, faith, nothing : But methinks so sweet a beauty as yours shews to me, And such an innocence as you may make it, iShould hold a longer siege.
Isab. 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.
88 WOMEN PLEASED. [act v.
Clau. Nay, I did but jest with you.
Isab. I '11 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 —
Isab. No handsome man, no anything to dote on ; No face, no tongue to catch me ; poor at all points, And I an ass.
Clau. Why do you wrong me, lady I If I were thus, and had no youth upon me. My service of so mean a way to win you (Which you yourself are conscious must deserve you. If you had thrice the beauty you possess, must reach you) ; If in 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 this is common, Where we love most, where most we stake our fortunes, There least and basest we are rewarded. Fare you well : 'l^Know now, I hate you too as much, contemn you, I (And weigh my credit at as high a value
Isab. May be I did but jest.
Clau. You are a woman ; And now I see your wants, and mine own follies, And task myself with indiscretion For doting on a face so poor.
Isab. Say you so, sir I I must not lose my end \^Aside\. — I did but jest with you, Only fooFd thus to try your faith : my Rugio, Do you think I could forget ?
Clau. Nay, 'tis no matter.
Isab. Is 't possible I should forsake a constancy So strong, so good, so sweet ?
Clau. A subtle woman !
Isab. You shall forgive me ; 'twas a trick to try you : And, were I sure you lov'd me
Clau. Do you doubt now ?
' opinioti] " i. e. reputation." Weber.
SCENE II.] WOMEN PLEASED. 89
Isah. I do not doubt : but he that would profess this, And bear that full affection you make show of, Should do
Clau. What should I do ?
Isah. I cannot shew you. I Clau. I '11 try thee, damned'st devil ! \^Aside.'\ — Hark you,
lady : No man shall dare do more, no service top me ; I '11 marry you.
Isah. How, sir !
Clau. Your husband 's sentenc'd, And he shall die
Isah. Die !
Clau. Die for ever to you ; The danger is mine own.
Isah. Die, did you tell me 1
Clau. He shall die ; I have cast * the way.
Isah. Oh, foul man, Malicious, bloody man !
Re-enter Lopez.
Lopez. When shall he die, sir I By whom, and how ?
Claji. Hast thou betray'd me, woman ?
Isab. Base man, thou wouldst have ruin'd me, my name too, And, like a toad, poison'd my virtuous memory ! Further than all this, dost thou see this friend here, This only friend I — shame take thy lust and thee, And shake thy soul ! — his life, the life I love thus, Myilfe in limi," my only life, thou aim'dst" at !
Clau. Am I catcli\l thus ?
Lopez. The law shall catch you better.
Isah. You make a trade of betraying women's honours, And think it noble in you to be lustful : Report of me hereafter
Clau. Fool'd thus finely ?
' cast'\ i. e. contrived, plotted.
" aMdsl\ So the first folio. The second folio "aim'st"; and so the modern editors (but compare "thou wouliLt have ruhi'd tne" in the first line of this speech).
90 WOMEN PLEASED. [act v.
Lopez. I must entreat you walk, sir, to the justice ; Where, if he 11 bid you kill me
Clau. Pray, stay a while, sir ; I must use a player's shift [^Throws off his disguise'].— T>o you know me now, lady ?
Lopez. Your brother Claud io, sure ! , Isab. Oh me, tis he, sir ! — 1 Oh, ray best brother !
Clau. My best sister now too ! I have tried you, found you so ; and now I love you, Love you so truly, nobly !
Lopez. Sir, I thank you ; You have made me a most happy man.
Clau. Thank her, sir ; And from this hour preserve that happiness ; Be no more foolM with jealousy,
Lopez. I have lost it ; — And take me now, new-born again, new-natur'd.
Jsah. I do ; and to that promise tie this faith, j I Never to have a false thought tempt my virtue. ^
Lopez. Enough, enough. — I must desire your presence ; My cousin Rhodope has sent in all haste for us : I am sure you will be welcome.
Clau. I '11 wait on ye.
Lopez. What the project is
Isab. We shall know when we are there, sir. \_Exeunt.
SCENE III. — An apartment in the Palace. Enter Duchess, Duke of Sienna, Lords, and Silvio.
Duch. Joy to you, Silvio, and your young fair bride ! You have stoln a day upon us ; you cannot woo, sir !
Sil. The joys of hell hang over me : oh, mischief ! To what a fortune has the devil driven me ! ^ Am I reserved for this I
Duke. Beshrew me, sir. But you have gotten you a right fair bedfellow p Let you alone to choose !
>cENE III.] WOMEN PLEASED. 91
Sil. I beseech your grace
'Tis misery enough to have met the devil, Not men's reproaches too.
Duke. How old is she ?
Duch. A very girl ; her eye dehvers it.
Duke. Her teeth are scarce come yet.
First Lord. What goodly children Will they two have now ! she is rarely made to breed on ; What a sweet-timber'd body !
Duch. Knotty i' the back ; But will hold out the stronger. What a nose !
Duke. Ay, marry, such a nose, so rarely mounted ! Upon my conscience, 'twas the part he doted on.
Duch. And that fine little eye to it, like an elephant's !
First Lord. Yes, if her feet were round, and her ears sachels.
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 compassions, Nearest to those in Heaven, should find fit places, Why do you mock at misery ? fling scorns and baseness Upon his broken back that sinks with sorrows? Heaven may reward you too ; and an hour come, When all your great designs shall shew ridiculous, And your hearts pinch'd like mine^
Duch. Fie, sir ! so angry Upon your wedding-day? go smug yourself; The maid will come anon. [Mzisic in divers places.
What music 's this ?
Duke. I warrant you, some noble preparation.
Duch. Let 's take our places, then.
Sil. More of these devil's dumps" ? Must I be ever haunted with these witchcrafts ? [^Aside.
° devWs dumps] i. e. devil's strains, tuiics. — Nares {Gloss, in v.) says, " whether ' devil's dumps ', in the present passage, be interpreted devil's tunes or devil's dances, depends upon whether it be thought to refer to the music preceding or the dance following ; I think the latter." But Nares had not read the play carefully. See p. GO, where, after the Song within, Silvio exclaims, " What heavenly voice is this that follows me 1 This is the second time 'thas waited on me ", &c.
92 WOMEN PLEASED. , [act v.
\/ Enter two Presenters ^ ; then a Masquerado of several shapes ; among
the Masquers, Bartello, Lopez, Claudio, Isabella, Rhodope,
Soto, Penurio, and Jaquenet,
First Pre. Room, room for merry spirits, room !
Hither on command we come ;
From the good old beldam sent,
Cares and sorrows to prevent. Sec. Pre. Look up, Silvio, smile, and sing !
After winter comes a spring. First Pre. Fear not, faint fool, what may follow ;
Eyes, that now are sunk and hollow,
By her art may quick return
To their flames again, and burn. Sec. Pre. Art commands all youth and blood ;
Strength and beauty it makes good. First Pre. Fear not, then, despair not ; sing,
Round about as we do spring ;
Cares and sorrows cast away ! ^ This is the old wife's holiday". \^Dance here; then enter Belvidere in her ■proper figure., and disperses the Masquers. Duch. Who is this ? Duke. The shape of Belvidere ! Bel. Now, SilviO; How dost thou like me now ? Sil. Thus I kneel to thee.
Bel. Stand up, and come no nearer ; mark me well too ; For, if thou troublest me, I vanish instantly.
Now choose wisely, or choose never ;
One thou must enjoy for ever.
Dost thou love me thus ?
" Enter two Presenters, &c.] Both the folios thus : "Enter a ^fasquerado of severall Shapes, and Daunces, after ivhich enter Belvidere and disperses them ; before the Maskers enter two Presenters, among ivhich are BarteUo," Sec.
"' the old wife's holiday] " Mason proposes to read ' the old ivives' holiday ' ; but the disguised Belvidere seems to be singly alluded to." Weber, — who had for the moment forgotten, that " the old wives holy-day " was the readin"' of both the folios, and « the old wife's holiday" the correction of Mason. In an earlier passage of the play (p. 55),
" To shew you, sir, I understand a wife's part," both the folios have " a tvives part."
>CKNK III.] WOMEN PLEASED. 93
Sil. Most dearly.
Bel. Take heed, fool ; it concerns thee nearly. If thou wilt have me young and bright, Pleasing to thine eye and sight. Courtly, and admir'd of all, Take heed, lest thy fame do fall : I shall then be full of scorn, Wanton, proud, (beware the horn !) Hating what I lov'd before. Flattery apt to fall before, All consuming, nothing getting ; Thus thy fair name comes to setting. But if old, and free from these, Thou shalt choose me, I shall please ; 1 shall then maintain thee still With my virtue and my skill, Still increase and build thy name Choose now, Silvio ; here I am. Sil I know not what to say, which way to turn nie ; Into thy sovereign will I put my answer.
Bel I thank you, sir, and my will thus rewards you ; Take your old love, your best, your dearest, Silvio ! No more spells now nor further shapes to alter me ; I am thy Belvidere indeed. — Dear mother, There is no altering this ; Heaven's hajidjs withjt ; And^OSSLXOU .ouglit^ to ^ivejns. ; he has fairly won me.
Sil. But why that hag ? """" ~"' —
Bel In that shape most secure still, I follow'd all your fortunes, servM, and counscll'd you. I met you at thejarraer^first, a Ciimitry,^encli, Where, fearing toj5c Jknown, I took that habit ; JAnd, to makcj^oujaiighing-sport at this mad marriage. By secret aid of my friend Rhodope, We got this masque.
Sil. And I am sure I have you ? Bel For ever now, for ever. Duch. You see it nmst be ; The wheel of Destiny hath turn'd it round so.
Duhc. It must, it is ; and curs'd be he that breaks it !
94 WOMEN PLEASED. [act v
Duch. I '11 put a choice to you, sir : you are my prisoner
Duke. I am so, and I must be so, till it please you ^
Duch. Choose one of these ; either to pay a ransom At what rate I shall set it (which shall be high enough), And so return a free man and a bachelor ; Or give me leave to give you a fit wife, In honour every way your grace"'s equal, And so your ransom's paid.
Duke. You say most nobly : Silvio''s example 's mine ; pray, choose you for me.
Duch. I thank you, sir ; I have got the mastery too ; And here I give your grace a husband"'s freedom : 'I Give me your hand, my husband !
Duke. You much honour me ; And I shall ever serve you for this favour.
Bart. Come, Lopez, let us give our wives the breeches too, For they will have 'em.
Lopez. Whilst they rule with virtue, I '11 give ""em, skin and all.
Isab. We '11 scratch it off else.
Sil. \to Claudio] I am glad you live ; more glad you live to honour ; And from this hour a stronger love dwell with us ! Pray you, take your man again.
Clau. He knows my house, sir.
Duch. 'Tis sin to keep you longer from your loves ; We '11 lead the way : and you, young men, that know not How to preserve a wife, and keep her fair, ,,
Give ^em their sovereign wills, and pleas'd they are. [Exeunt.
\
* till it please you ] So both the foHos : and, I think, rightly : but Masou
says that there should be no bi'eak at the eud of the line, the sense being com- plete, and " tiW" meaning — while (as in The Scornful Lady, vol. iii. 104).
\
I
'WOMAN'S PRIZE;
THE TAMER TAMED.
The Womans Prize.- or The Tamer Tamed.
In the folios 1647, IG/O.
The second folio adds "A Comedy."
That The Woman's Prize, or The Tamer Tamed, was the unassisted composition of Fletcher", and that it was "an ould pky " in lGo3, we leai-n from the following curious memoranda concerning it in the office- hook of Sir Henry Herhert :
" On fi-iday the nineteenth of October'', 1G33, I sent a warrant by a messenger of the chamber to suppress The Tamer Taihd, to the Kings players, for that aftemoone, and it was obeyd ; upon complaints of foule and offensive matters conteyned therein'^.
" They acted The Scornful Lady instead of it. I have enterd the warrant here.
' These are to will and require you to forbeare the actinge of your play called The Tamer Tamd, or the Taminge of the Tamer, this after- noonc, or any more till you have leave from mee : and this at your perill. On friday mominge the 18 Octob. 1633.
' To Mr. Taylor, IMr. Lowins, or any of the King's players at the Blackfryers.'
" On saterday mominge followinge the booke was brought mee, and at my lord of Hollands request I returned it to the players y^ monday morninge after, purgd of oaths, prophaness, and ribaldrj-e, being y^ 21 of Octob. 10.33.
" Because the stoppinge of the acting of this play fur that aftcrnoone, it being an ould play, hath raysed some discourse in the players, thogh no
• Weber remarks that it is attributed to him by Lovelace and Oardiner in their commenda- tory verses, as well as by Langbaine, and that the Prologue speaks of it as the product of " Fletcher's brave Muse": but the authority of Gardiner and Lovelace carries little weight, that of Langbaine none at all ; and the I'rologue was evidently written for some revival of the pKiy. •> " So the MS. though afterwards Sir Henry Herbert c.iUs it ' friday the Iftth.' " c Weber supposes that the Puritans were the persons who complained to Sir Henry, several passages being levelled at that sect. The editors of the folio, lfi47, bccm to have restored to the text of this play nearly the whole of what the licenser had so carefully cxpimged.
VOL. VII. II
98
disobedience, I have thought fitt to insert here ther submission upon a former disobedience''," &c.
" The 24 Octob. 1633, Lowins and Swanston were sorry for their ill manners, and craved my pardon, which I gave them in presence of Mr. Taylor and Mr. Benfeilde."
" On tusday night at Saint James, the 26 of Novemb. 1683, was acted before the King and Queene, The Taminge of the Shrew [by Shakespeare]. Likt.
" On thursday night at St. James, the 28 of Novemb. 163.3, was acted before the King and Queene, The Tamer Tamd, made by Fletcher. Very well likt."
Malone's Shakespeare (by Boswell), iii. 208—10, 234.
The two entries last cited seem to shew that The Tamer Tamed" gave greater satisfaction to the royal auditors than the play by Shakespeare of which it was avowedly intended to form the Second Part.
Till the suppression of theatrical entertainments, this comedy appears to have been popular. It was one of the pieces in which the youthful Betterton distinguished himself, while an actor at the Cockpit in Drur}^- lane, in the company formed by Rhodes on the eve of the Restoration (see vol. V. 3) ; and it is found among the "Names of the Plays acted by the Red-Bull actors" after the return of Charles the Second (see Malone's Shakespeare, by Boswell, iii. 272.). During the next century it seems to have been only once revived, viz. in 1760, when it was performed as an after-piece at Drury-lane theatre, with an epilogue written by Richard Owen Cambridge ^
"1 Their acting Massinger's Sxxmish Viceroy without a licence from Sir Henry.
fi Weber observes that the first name of this drama, The Woman's Prize, appears to have obtained little popularity, and that tlie second, The Tamer Tamed, was probably given to it, " to approximate the title to that of Shakespeare's play."
f See his Works, p. 314.
PROLOGUE,
AT A REVIVAL OF THE PLAY.
Ladies, to you, in whose defence and right
Fletcher's brave Muse prepared herself to fight
A battle without blood ('twas well fought too ;
The victory's yours, though got with much ado),
We do present this comedy ; in which
A rivulet of pure wit flows, strong and rich
In fancy, language, and all parts that may
Add grace and ornament to a merry play :
Which this may prove ! Yet not to go too far
In promises from this our female war,
We do entreat the angry men would not
Expect the mazes of a subtle plot,
Set speeches, high expressions, and, what 's worse
In a true comedy, politic discourse.
The end we aim at is to make you sport ;
Yet neither gall the city nor the court.
Hear, and observe his comic strain, and when
Ye 're sick of melancholy, see 't again :
'Tis no dear physic, since 'twill quit the cost,
Or his intentions, with our pains, are lost.
H 2
DRAMATIS PERSONiE.
f- his friends.
Petruchio, an Italian gentleman, husband to Maria.
Sophocles, "
Tranto,
Petronius, father to Maria and Livia.
MoROSO, a rich old citizen.
Rowland, a young gentleman.
Jaques, -) „
^ )■ servants to Petruchio.
Pedro, J
Doctor.
Apothecary.
Watchmen.
Porters, Servants.
Maria, wife to Petruchio,-!
}- daughters to Petronius.
LlVIA, J
Bianca, their cousin.
City-women, Country-women, Maids, and Waiting-Woman.
Scene — London,
WOMAN'S PRIZE;
OR, THE
TAMER TAMED.
ACT I.
SCENE I. — A hall in the house o/* Petruchio.
Enter SIoROSO, Sophocles, and Tkanio, u;ith rosemary '', as from
a wedding.
Mor. God give 'em joy !
Tra. Amen.
Soph. Amen, say I too. The pudding 's now i' the proof. Alas, poor wench, Through what a mine of patience must thou work, Ere thou know'st good hour more !
Tra. ""Tis too true : certain, Methinks her father has dealt harshly with her, Exceeding harshly, and not like a father. To match her to this dragon : I protest I pity the poor gentlewoman.
Mor. Methinks now, He's not so terrible as people think him.
Soph. [To TuAMo] This old thief flatters, out of mere devotion, To please the father for his second daughter.
* rosemary^ See note, vol. ii. 215.
102 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act i.
Tra. But shall he have her ?
Soph. Yes, when I have Rome ; And yet the father 's for him.
Mor. I '11 assure ye, I hold him a good man.
Soph. Yes, sure, a wealthy b ; But whether a good woman's man, is doubtful.
Tra. Would 'twere no worse !
Mor. What though his other wife. Out of her most abundant sourness ^, Out of her daily hue and cries upon him, (For, sure, she was a rebel,) turn'd his temper, And fore'd him blow as high as she ; does 't follow He must retain that long-since-buried tempest To this soft maid ?
Soph. I fear it.
Tra. So do I too ; And so far, that, if God had made me woman. And his wife that must be
Mor. What would you do, sir ?
Tra. I would learn to eat coals with an angry cat '', And spit fire at him ; I would, to prevent ^ him. Do all the ramping roaring tricks, a whore. Being drunk and tumbling ripe, would tremble at : There is no safety else, nor moral wisdom, To be a wife^ and his.
Soph. So I should think too.
Tra. For yet the bare remembrance of his first wife (I tell ye on ray knowledge, and a truth too)
'' a good man.
Soph, Ves, sure, a wealthy'] Good in the mercantile sense of — able to fulfil engagements, rich, is not yet obsolete.
'= sourncf:s'] The folios have " sobernesse " and "soberness"; and so the modern editors. — " This quality of soberness ill agrees with Katherine, and her daily hues and cx'ies. I have no doubt but we should read 'sourness ', instead of ' soberness ". Mason, — whose correction, I feel confident, restores the genuine text : "sourness" is to be read here as a trisyllable ; and indeed was most probably written in the author's MS. " souernesse."
^ I would learn to cat coals ivith an angry cat] See note, vol. v. 81. — Weber observes, "This seems to allude to some inhuman trick played with cats " !!
* prevent] i. e. anticipate.
SCENE I.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 103
Will make him start in 's sleep, and very often
Cry out for cudgels, colestaves ', any thing ;
Hiding his breeches, out of fear her ghost
Should walk, and wear 'em yet. Since his first marriage.
He is no more the still Petruchio
Than I am Babylon.
Soph. He 's a good fellow, And, on my word, I love him ; but to think A fit match for this tender soul
Tra. His very frown, if she but say her prayers Louder than men talk treason, makes him tinders ; The motion of a dial, when he 's testy, Is the same trouble to him as a water-work''; She must do nothing of herself, not eat. Drink, say " Sir, how do you?" make her ready, unready', Unless he bid her.
Soph. He will bury her, Ten pound to twenty shillings, within these three weeks.
Tra. I '11 be your half.
Mor. He loves her most extremely. And so long "'twill be honey-moon.
Enter Jaques, icith a pot of xcine.
Now, Jaques ! You are a busy man, I am sure.
f coleslaves] " Cotgrave explains Tine, *a colestaffe, or stang ; a big staflfe whereon a burthen is carried between two on their shoulders.' " Weber. And see Nares's Gloss.
e His very frown, if she but say her prayers Louder than men talk treason, makes him tinder] On this passage, S^-mpson, the Editors of 1778, and Mason, offer various conjectural emenda- tions. " The meaning", says Heath {MS. Notes), " I apprehend to be this,— that he could not frown even on the slightest occasion, but, as if that frown were a spark fallen among tinder, he kindled into a violent rage." Weber's explanation of the text agrees with Heath's. I once thought that perhaps the right reading was " makes her tinder", i. e. reduces her to tiudcr, com- pletely burns lier up.
^ a water-work] " 1 suppose," says Mason, "means a water-mill" : to which Weber adds " This is surely quite obvious."' It is cei'tauily quite wrong : a water-work (as Nares observes, Gloss, in v.) means an engine for forcing water, the noise of which is considerable.
' make her ready, unready] i. e. dress and undress herself.
104 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act i.
Jaques. Yes, certain ; This old sport must have eggs
Sojih. Not yet this ten days.
Jaques. Sweet gentlemen, with muscadel.
Tra. That's right, sir.
Mor. This fellow broods' his master. — Speed you, Jaques.
Soph. We shall be for you presently.
Jaques. Your worships Shall have it rich and neat ; and, o' ray conscience, As welcome as our Lady-day. Oh, my old sir, When shall we see your worship run at ring'' I That hour, a standing were worth money.
Mor. So, sir !
Jaques. Upon my little honesty, your mistress, If 1 have any speculation, Must think this single thrumming of a fiddle, Without a bow, but even poor sport.
Mo7\ You're merry.
Jaques. Would I were wise too ! So, God bless your worship ! [^Exit.
Tra. The fellow tells you true.
Soph. When is the day, man ? Come, come ; you '11 steal a marriage.
Mor. Nay, believe me : But when her father pleases, I am ready. And all my friends shall know it.
Tra. Why not now ? One charge had serv'd for both.
Mor. There 's reason in 't.
Soph. Call'd Rowland.
Mor. Will ye walk ? They '11 think we are lost : come, gentlemen. [ Exit.
Tra. You have wip'd him now. Soph. So will he never the wench, I hope. Tra. I wish it. [Exeunt.
> broods'] "i. e. cherishes." Ed. 1778. As before ; see vol. v. 66.
I* rim at ring'] " A quibbhng allusion to the sport called Running at the Ring, when the tiltei', riding at full speed, endeavoured to thrust the point of his lance through, and to bear away, the i-ing, which was suspended at a fixed height." Wrber (the note altered).
SCENE II.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 105
SCENE II. — A71 apartment in the same.
Enter Rowland and Livia.
Roiul. Now, Livia, if you '11 go away to-night, If your affections be not made of words
Livia. I love you, and you know how dearly, Rowland, — Is there none near us I — my affections ever Have been your servants ; with what superstition I have ever sainted you
Rowl. Why, then, take this way'.
Livia. 'Twill be a childish and a less prosperous course Than his that knows not care : why should we do Our honest and our hearty love such wrong, To over-run our fortunes l
Rowl. Then you flatter,
Livia. Alas, you know I cannot !
Rowl. What hope 's left else, But flying, to enjoy you ?
Livia. None, so far ; For let it be admitted, we have time. And all things now in other expectation, My father 's bent against us ; what but ruin Can such a by-way bring us ? If your fears Would let you look with my eyes, I would shew you, And certain, how our staying here would win us A course, though somewhat longer, yet far surer.
Rowl. And then Moroso has you.
Livia. No such matter ; For hold this certain, — begging, stealing, whoring, Selling (which is a sin unpardonable) Of counterfeit cods'", or musty English cracus",
' Why, then, take this way'] The Editors of 1778, absui'dly enough, put an interrogation-point at the end of this speech.
™ counterfeit cods] i. c. spurious or adulterate civet-bags : see Gifibrd's note on Jonson's Works, viii. 162. Weber feared tliat there was an indelicate allu- sion here ! !
" cracus] So the first foUo. — The second foHo "croacus". — The modern
106 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act i.
Switches, or stones for the tooth-ache, sooner finds me, Than that drawn fox Moroso.
Bold. But his money ; If wealth may win you
Livia. If a hog may be High-priest among the Jews. His money, Rowland ! Oh, Love forgive me ! AVhat a faith " hast thou ! Why, can his money kiss me? —
Rotvl. Yes.
Livia. Behind, Lac'd" out upon a petticoat : — or grasp me, While I cry " Oh, good thank you'' ?— (o' my troth. Thou mak'st me merry with thy fear)— or lie with me As you may do ? Alas, what fools you men are ! His mouldy money ! half a dozen ridersP, That cannot sit but stampt fast to their saddles ! No, Rowland, no man shall make use of me^ ; My beauty was born free, and free I '11 give it To him that loves, not buys me. You yet doubt me ?
Roicl I cannot say I doubt you.
Livia. Go thy ways ; Thou art the prettiest puling piece of passion ! r faith, I will not fail thee.
Bowl I had rather
Livia. Prithee, believe me : if I do not carry it For both our goods
Boiol. But
editors print " crocus ".—This name for a kind of tobacco occurs (differently spelt) in Middleton and W. Rowley's Fair Quarel, act iv. sc. 1. ;
" Chough ... 'I faith, Trim, we '11 roar the rusty rascal out of his tobacco.
Trim. Ay, an he had the best craccus in London." Middleton's Works, iii. 506, ed. Dyce.
" What a faith"] So Sympson : and compare a line in act ii. sc. 3, — " Whether that woman ever had a faith." Both the folios " What faith" ; and so the Editors of 1778 and Weber.
" Lac'd] So the first folio (" Lasd") — The second folio has " Laid ".
p riders] " A rider is a Dutch coin impressed with the figure of a man on horseback, and worth about twenty-seven English shillings." Mason. There were ridcrshoi\\ of gold and silver : sec R. Holme's Ac. of Armory, 1688, B. iii. pp. 33, 36.
1 make use of me] " i. e. make money by me, and marry me for that purpose." Mason. " Use, in old writings, stands continually for usury." Weber.
SCENE II.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 107
Livia. What hit ? Roid. I would tell you.
Livia. I know all you can tell me : all 's but this ; You would have me, and lie with me : is ""t not so I Roicl. Yes.
Livia. Why, you shall ; will that content you ? go. Roid. I am very loath to go.
Enter, behind, Bianca and Maria conversing.
Livia. Now, o' my conscience. Thou art an honest fellow. Here 's my sister. Go, prithee, go : this kiss, and credit me, Ere I am three nights older, I am for thee : You shall hear what I do. Farewell.
Roicl. Farewell. [Exit.
Livia. Alas, poor fool, how it looks ! It would even hang itself, should I but cross it : For pure love to the matter, I must hatch it."
Bianca. Nay, never look for merry hour, Maria, If now you make it not : let not your blushes, Your modesty, and tenderness of spirit. Make you continual anvil to his anger : Believe me, since his first wife set him going, Nothing can bind his rage. Take your own counsel ; You shall not say that I persuaded you : But, if you suffer him
Maria. Stay : shall I do it ?
Bianca. Have you a stomach to 't ?
Maria. I never shewM it.
Bianca. 'Twill shew the rarer and the stronger ' in you : But do not say I urg'd you,
Maria. I am perfect. Like Curtius, to redeem my country, have I leapM Into this gulph of marriage ; and I '11 do it. Farewell, all poorer thoughts, but spite and anger, Till I have wrought a miracle ! — Now, cousin, 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 [a] tempest ;
' stronger'] Sjmpson proposes to read " stranger ".
108 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act i.
And, like a tempest, shall it make all ruins % Till I have run my will out.
Bianca. This is brave now, If you continue it : but, your own will lead you.
Maria. Adieu, all tenderness ! I dare continue. Maids that are made of fears and modest blushes, View me, and love example ! .
Bianca. Here is your sister.
Maria. Here is 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, When Paphos' revels should up-rouse old Night, To sweat against a cork \ to lie and tell" The clock o' the lungs, to rise sport-starvM !
Livia. Dear sister, Where have you been, you talk thus ?
Maria. Why, at church, wench ; Where I am tied to talk thus : I am a wife now.
Livia. It seems so, and a modest.
Maria. You are an ass : When thou art married once, thy modesty Will never buy thee pins.
Livia. Bless me !
Maria. From what ?
Bianca. From such a tame fool as our cousin Livia?
Livia. You are not mad ?
Maria. Yes, wench, and so must you be, .Or none of our acquaintance, (mark me, Livia,) Or indeed fit for our sex. Tis bed-time : Pardon me, yellow Hymen, that I mean 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 in 't I
' ruins'] So the first folio. — The second folio " ruin " ; and so Sympson. ' a cork] Meaning, of course, the dry, withered body of Moroso. " tell] i. c. count.
SCENE II.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 109
Livia. Leave it, Maria ; — I fear I have markM too much ; — for goodness, leave it : Devest " you with obedient hands ; to bed.
Maria. To bed ! no, Livia ; there are comets hang Prodigious '' over that yet ; there 's a fellow Must yet, before I know that heat, — ne'er start, wench, — Be made a man, for yet he is a monster ; Here must his head be, Livia.
Livia. Never hope it : 'Tis as easy with a sieve to scoop the ocean, as To tame Petruchio.
Maria. Stay. — Lucina, hear me ! Never unlock the treasure of my womb, For human fruit 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 husband's will, Or be a wife in any thing but hopes. Till I have made him easy as a child. And tamo as fear ! he shall not win a smile, Or a pleasM look, from this austerity, Though it would pull another jointure from him, And make him every day another man : And when I kiss him, till I have my will. May I be barren of delights, and know Only what pleasures are in dreams and guesses !
Livia. A strange exordium !
Bianca. All the several wrongs Done by imperious husbands to their wives These thousand years and upwards, strengthen thee ! Thou hast a brave cause.
Maria. And I '11 do it bravely, Or may I knit my life out ever after !
Livia. In what part of the world got she this spirit ? — Yet pray, Maria, look before you truly :
" Devesf^ "i. e. undress, in the literal sense of the word. All the modern editions have it — 'Divest.'" Webeu. The first folio has "Devest'' ; the second " Divest ".
' Pro'ligious] i. e. portentous.
110 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. act i.
Besides the disobedience" of a wife, Which you will find a heavy imputation, (Which yet I cannot think your own, it shews So distant frora your sweetness)
Maria. 'Tis, I swear.
Livia. Weigh but the person, and the hopes you have, To work this desperate cure.
Maria. A weaker subject Would shame the end I aim at. Disobedience ! You talk too tamely : by the faith I have In mine own noble will, that childish woman, That lives a prisoner to her husband's pleasure, Has lost her making, and becomes a beast, Created for his use, not fellowship.
Livia. His first wife said as much.
Maria. She was a fool. And took a scurvy course : let her be nam'd 'Mongst those that wash for things, but dare not do 'em : I have a new dance for him.
Livia. Are you of this faith ?
Bianca. Yes, truly ; and will die in 't.
Livia. Why, then, let's all wear breeches.
Maria. Now thou com'st near the nature of a woman. Hang these tame-hearted ey asses '', that no sooner See the lure ^ out, and hear their husbands' holla, But cry like kites upon 'em ! The free haggard ^ (Which is that woman that hath wing, and knows it. Spirit and plume) will make an hundred checks^, To shew her freedom, sail in every air, And look out every pleasure, not regarding
"■ the disobedience] The correction of the Editors of 1778, which, as they observe, is confirmed by the next speech but two. — Both the folios have " the obedience " ; and so Sympson, — with a foolish note by Seward, who reads " the due obedience ", and transposes several lines of the passage.
* el/asses'] i. e. young hawks, newly taken from the nest, and not able to prey for themselves.
y lure'\ See note, vol. iii. 109. ' huffgard] See note, vol. iii. 108.
* checks'] " Check is when Crowes, Rooks, Pyes, or other bii'ds comming in the view of the Hawk, she forsaketh her natural! flight to fly at them." Latham's Fanlconry (Eccplan. of Words of Art), 1658.
SCENE II.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. Ill
Lure nor quarry'' till her pitch "^^ command What she desires ; making her foundered keeper Be glad to fling out trains, and golden ones, To take her down again.
Livia. You are learned, sister ; Yet I say still, take heed.
Maria. A witty saying ! I '11 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 he all the malice And subtilty of devils, or of us, Or any thing that \s worse than both
Livia. Hey, hey, boys ! this is excellent !
Maria. Or could he Cast his wives new again, like bells, to make 'era Sound to his will ; or had the fearful name Of the first breaker of wild women ; yet. Yet would I undertake this man, thus single, And, spite of all the freedom he has reach'd to, Turn him and bend him as I list, and mould him Into a babe again^ that aged women, Wanting both teeth and spleen, may master him.
Bianca. Thou wilt be chronicled.
Maria. That 's all I aim at.
Livia. I must confess I do with all my heart Hate an imperious husband, and in time Might be so wrought upon
Bianca. To make him cuckold 1
Maria. If he deserve it.
Livia. There*' I'll leave ye, ladies.
'' quarry'\ i. e. game, prey ; see note, vol. ii. 554.
' pilch] i. e. the height to which a hawk soars before she stoops upon her prey.
•1 There] Both the folios " Then".— " Probably," say the Editors of 1778, " we should read ' There '," — a correction which Mason approved of, and which Giftbrd ha.s made with a pencil in a copy of ed. 177?^. Compare the following pa.ssagc of Philaster, act ii. sc. 4 ; "All these considered, can make nothing else — but there I leave you, gentlemen." Vol. i. 247.
112 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act i.
Bianca. Thou hast not so much noble anger in thee.
Maria. Go sleep, go sleep : what we intend to do Lies not for such starved souls as thou hast, Livia.
Livia. Good night : the bridegroom will be with you presently.
Maria. That's more than you know.
Livia. If you work upon him As you have promised, you may give example, Which no doubt will be follow^l.
Maria. So !
Bianca. Good night : We '11 trouble you no further.
Maria. If you intend no good, pray, do no harm.
Livia. None, but pray for you. [Exit.
Bianca. Cheer, wench.
Maria. Now, Bianca, Those wits we have, let 's wind 'em to the height. My rest is up, wench, and I pull for that Will make me ever famous'^' : they that lay Foundations are half-builders, all men say.
Enter Jaques.
Jaques. My master, forsooth
Maria. Oh, how does thy master ? Prithee, commend me to him.
Jaques. How is this ? [Aside.
My master stays, forsooth
Maria. Why, let him stay : Who hinders him, forsooth ?
Jaques. The revel "s ended now, — To visit you.
^ My rest is up, wench, and I pull for that
Will make me ever fiimous'] " * 3It/ rest is up,' means — my stake is laid. It is a common phrase in these plays." Mason. See note, p. 82. " The last
editor [Webei*] thinks the musket-rest intended here the woi'd ^ pull'
gives a colour to this intei'pretation ; but I think it is equivalent only to drawing a card : it clearly means so in the following passage, — ' Faith, sir, my rest is up, And what I now pull shall no moi'e afflict me
Than if I play'd at span-counter.' Monsieur Thomas, act iv. sc. 9." Nares's Gloss, in v. Rest, &c.
SCENE III.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 113
Maria. I am not sick,
Jaques. I mean, To see his chamber, forsooth.
Maria. Am I his groom ? ^^^here lay he last night, forsooth i
Jaques. In the low matted parlour.
Maria. There lies his way, by the long gallery.
Jaques. I mean, your chamber. You ""re very merry, mistress.
Maria. Tis a good sign T am sound -hearted, Jaques : But, if you '11 know where I lie, follow me, And what thou seest, deliver to thy master.
Bianco. Do, gentle Jaques. [Exit with Maria.
Jaques. Ha ! is the wind in that door I By^r lady, we shall have foul weather, then. I do not like the shuffling of these women ; They are mad beasts, when they knock their heads together : I have observ'd them all this day ; their whispers One in another's ear, their signs and pinches, And breaking often into violent laughters, As if the end they purpos'd were their own. Call you this weddings ^ I sure, this is a knavery, A very trick, and dainty knavery ; Marvellous finely carried, that 's the comfort : What would these women do in ways of honour. That are such masters this way I Well, my sir 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 III. — A court before the house o/'Peibuchio. Enter Servants icilh lights, Petruchio, Petronius, Moroso,
Tranio, a7id SopnocLES. Pelrn. You that are married, gentlemen, have ^ at ye For a round wager now ! So])h. Of this night's stage ? Petru. Yes.
* weddings'] Mason would read " wedding". ' have'] So the second folio. — Tlio first folio " home ". VOL. Vll. 1
114 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [acti.
Soph. I am your first man ; A pair of gloves of twenty shillings.
Petru. Done ! Who takes me up next ? I am for all bets.
Mor. We\\ lusty Lawrence ?, were but my night now. Old as I am, I would make you clap on spurs, But I would reach you, and bring you to your trot too ; I would, gallants.
Petru. Well said,Good-will ! but where 's the staff i', boy, ha i Old father Time, your hour-glass is empty.
Tra. A good tough train would break thee all to pieces ; Thou hast not breath enough to say thy prayers.
Petron. See how these boys despise us! — Will you to bed, son ^ This pride will have a fall.
Petru, Upon your daughter : But I shall rise again, if there be truth In eggs and butter"'d parsnips.
Petron. Will you to bed, son, and leave talking ? To-morrow morning we shall have you look. For all your great words, like St. George at Kingston ', Running a foot-back from the furious dragon, That with her angry tail belabours him For being lazy.
Tra. His courage quench'd, and so far quench'd —
Petru. 'Tis well, sir. What, then ?
Soph. ' Fly., jly^^ quoth then The fearful dicarf'^ ; ' here is no place for living men.''
fe' lusty Laivrence'] See note, vol. iii. 295.
•> staff] Sympson proposed to read " stuff ". Mason says "'staff' must be the true reading ; but there is evidently an allusion to some old proverb not now in use:" rather, I apprehend, (if "staff" be right,) to some emblem. Weber has a long and vei-y foolisli note on this passage.
' St. George at Kingston] " I find," says Nares (citing the present passage, Gloss, in V. George, St,), " an allusion to a slanderous sign at Kingston, on which St George was represented as on foot, and flying from the attack of the dragon's tail. This was a most disgraceful representation of the favourite saint, and, till we have it further explained, we cannot but w^onder that it should have been tolerated."
J ' Fly, fly,' quoth then The fearful dwarf, &c.] In both the folios stands thus,
scENK m.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 115
Petru. ^Vell, my masters, If I do sink under my business, as I find 'Tis very possible, I am not the first That has miscarried so ; that 's ^ my comfort ; What may be done without impeach or i waste, I can and will do.
Enter Jaques. How now ! is my fair bride a-bed I
Jaques. No, truly, sir.
Petron. Not a-bed yet ! Body o' me, we'll up And rifle her : here 's a coil with a maidenhead ! 'Tis not entailed, is it ?
Petru. If it be, I Ml try all the law i' the land but Til cut it off. Let 's up, let 's up ; come.
Jaques. That you cannot neither.
Petru. Why?
Jaques. Unless you '11 drop through the chimney like a daw. Or force a breach '\ the windows : you may untile The house, 'tis possible.
Petru. What dost thou mean I
Jaques. A moral, sir ; the ballad will express it : [^Sings.
The wind and the rain ■" Has turn'd you back again, And you cannot be lodged there.
The truth is, all the doors are barricado'd ;
" Fly, fly, quoth then the fearfuU dwarfe ; Here is no place for living man " ; and so the modern editors, who were not aware that it is a quotation from Spenser's Faerie Queene, B. 1. C. 1. st. 13 (where "this is no place", &c.).
'' Thai has miscarried so ; thai 's, &c.] Mason's punctuation. Both the folios " That has miscarried ; so that '5,"&c.
' or] " We should surely read 'of'.'' Maso.n.
" The wind and the rain, &c.] " This quotation from a ballad, seemingly very popular, occui-s again [somewhat differently] in The Kniyhl of the Burn- ing Pestle, [act iii. sc. .'),] where it begins, ' Go from my window, love, go ', [and in Monsieur Thomas, act iii. sc. 3]. It is quoted, also, in The Soldier's Fortune, by Otway. Turned into a spiritual hymn, it occurs in the Scottish collection of Godly and Spiritual Songs, &c. 1021." Weber. See note, vol. ii. 194.
I 2
116 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act i.
Not a cat-hole but holds a murderer " in't : She*'s victuaird for this month,
Petru. Art not thou drunk \
Soph. He 's drunk, he 's drunk. Come, come ; let's up.
Jaques. Yes, yes, I am drunk : ye may go up, ye may, gentlemen ; But take heed to your heads : I say no more.
Soph. I'll try that. [Exit.
Petron. How dost thou say I the door fast lock'd, fellow \
Jaques. Yes, truly, sir, 'tis lock'd, and guarded too ; And two as desperate tongues planted behind it As e'er yet batter'd : they stand upon their honours, And will not give up without strange composition, I will assure you ; marching away with Their pieces cock'd, and bullets in their mouths," Will not satisfy them.
Petru. How's this ? how's this? They are ! is there another with her ?
Jaques. Yes, marry, is there, and an engineer.
Mor. Who's that, for Heaven's sake?
Jaques. Colonel Bianca ; she commands the works ; Spinola's but a ditcher to her P ; there's a half-moon. I am but a poor man, but, if you'll give me leave, I'll venture a year's wages, draw all your force before it, And mount your ablest piece of battery, You shall not enter it these three nights yet.
Petru. I should laugh at that, good Jaques.
Re-enter Sophocles. Soph. Beat back again 'i : She's fortified for ever.
" murderer'^ Was (as before noticed) the name for a vei'y destructive piece of ordnance.
o bullets in their mouths^ " Before the invention of cartouches, bullets were frequently carried in this manner, and the same practice is still usual among the American riflemen." Weber.
P Spinola 's but a ditcher to her'\ " The marquis of Spinola, who was com- mander in chief at the siege of Ostend, mentioned in the next page." Reed.
■1 Beat back again] Not spoken of himself, but addressed to the others, and equivalent to — retreat : compare a passage in vol. v. 28, whei-e see note.
I
scENiiiii] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 117
Jaqiies. Am I drunk now, sir?
Soph. He that dares most, go up now, and be cool'd. I have scapM a pretty scouring.
Petru. What, are they mad ? have we another bedlam ? They do not talk, I hope ?
Sopli. Oh, terribly, Extremely fearful ! the noise at London-Bridge Is nothing near her.
Petru. How got she tongue '' ?
Soph. As you got tail ; she was born to 't.
Petru. Lock'd out a-doors, and on my wedding-night I Nay, an I suffer this, I may go graze. Come, gentlemen, I'll batter. Are these virtues I
Soph. Do, and be beaten off with shame, as I was : I went up, came to the door, knock'd, nobody answer'd ; Knock'd louder, yet heard nothing ; would have broke in By force ; when suddenly a water-work Flew from the window with such violence, That, had I not duck'd quickly like a friar — C cetera gicis nescit ?
The chamber's nothing but a mere Ostend,'' In every window pewter cannons mounted, — You'll quickly find with what they are charg'd, sir.
Petru, Why, then, tantara for us !
SopJi. And all the lower works lin'd sure with small shot. Long tongues with firelocks, that, at twelve-score blank ^, Hit to the heart. Now, an ye dare, go up.
Maria and Bianca appear at a window. Mor. The window opens. Beat a parley first. I am so much amaz\l, my very hair stands.
Petron. \Vhy, how now, daughter ! what, intrencli'd^ ? Maria. A little guarded for my safety, sir.
■> she tongue} Sympson silently printed " she this tongue ? "
' a mere Ostend, &c.] See note, vol. iii. 154.
■ at twelve-score blank'] i. e. the mark at which they are aimed being twelve- score yards distant : blank means pi-opcrly — the white mark in the centre of the butt, at wliich the archers shot.
' what, intrench'd} Sympson silently printed " uhut, are you intretich'd ? "
118 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act i.
Petru. For your safety, sweetheart ! why, who" offends you? I come not to use violence.
Maria. I think You cannot, sir ; I am better fortified.
Petru. I know your end ; you would fain reprieve your maidenhead A night or two.
Maria. Yes, or ten, or twenty, Or say an hundred ; or, indeed, till I list lie with you.
Soph, That 's a shrewd saying. From this present hour I never will believe a silent woman ; When they break out they are bonfires.
Petron. Till you list lie with him ! why, 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 go without (I mean your wife) for this night.
Maria. 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 are bug's- words ^^
Tranio. You hear, sir, she can talk, God be thanked !
Petru. I would I heard it not, sir !
Soph. I find that all the pity bestow'd upon this woman Makes but an anagram of an ill wife, For she was never virtuous.
Petru. You '11 let me in, I hope, for all this jesting.
Maria. Hope still, sir.
Petron. You will come down, I am sure.
Maria. I am sure I will not.
Petron. I '11 fetch you, then.
Bianca. The power of the whole county cannot, sir.
" lohy, w/wl Sympson silently printed " why, pray, ivho". ^ buy's-wordu} See note, vol. i. 297. So the fii'st folio. — The second folio " hug-ivoi-ds " ; and so Sympson and the Editors of ] 778.
-lENEiii.J THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 119
Unless we please to yield ; which yet I think
We shall not : charge when^^ you please, you shall
Hear quickly from us.
Mor. Bless me'' from a chicken of thy hatching ! Is this wiving ?
Petru. Prithee, Maria, tell me what 's the reason, And do it freely, you deal thus strangely with me ? 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. So 'tis not old, nor lame, nor weak with physic. But well enough to please an honest woman, That keeps her house, and loves her husband.
Maria. 'Tis so.
Petru. My means and my conditions > are no shamers Of him that owes ^ 'em, (all the 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 ; nay more, so far
^ charge when'] Sympson silently printed " charge us tvhen." ^ Bless me] Sympson silently printed " Heaven hless me ;" which is given by his successors, Weber observing that the apostrophe before "Bless" in the first folio "was undoubtedly inserted to notify the scrupulous omission of 'Heaven'." But why did they not print "Heaven bless me" in an earlier passage of this play (p. 108), where both the folios have an apostrophe before " Bless " 1 " Will never buy thee pins. Livia. Bless me ! Maria. From what ?" So too at p. 112, we have, according to the first folio, " Bianca. 'CAeer, weuch" ; and in the preceding play (p. 70), according to the same folio, " But, like a tempest, 'bore the field before him. Till he arriv'd at me." 1 may add that the Editors of 17/8 and Weber, in opposition to both the folios, divide the present speech thus, —
J\Ior. Heaven bless me from A chicken of thy hatching ! Is this wiving ? " >■ condiliojis'] i. o. qualities, — disposition. ^ otves} i. e. owns.
'' parcels] " This is a law-phrase [see note, vol. iii. 486]," &c. Wi:iieu. Yes ; but here the word means merely — parts, particulars.
120 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act i.
I cam from making these the ends I aim at,
These idle outward things, these women's fears,
That, were I yet unmarried, free to choose
Through all the tribes of man, I 'd take Petruchio
In 's shirt, with one ten groats to pay the priest,
Before the best man living, or the ablest
That e'er leap'd out of Lancashire^,— rand they are right ones.
Petron. Why do you play the fool, then, and stand prating Out of the window, like a broken miller 1
Petru. If you will have me credit you, Maria, 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, If these two wenches be not brewing knavery 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 untie it, This distance I must keep.
Petru. If you talk more, I am angry, very angry.
Maria. I am glad on 't, and I will talk.
Petru. Prithee, peace ; Let me not think thou art mad. I tell thee, woman, 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 thing that tends to our allegiance : There ""s a short method for you ; now you know me.
Petru. If you can carry 't so, 'tis very well.
* the ablest
That e'er leap'd out of Lancashh-e] " The Lancashire men are still celebrated for their strength and dexterity at the sport of single-stick, being frequently matched against the Somerset youths. To this probably the text alludes." Weber.
f
SCENE III.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 121
Bianca. No, you shall carry it. sir.
Petru. Peace, gentle low-bell.'
Petron. Use no more words, but come down instantly ; I charge thee, by the duty of a child !
Petru. Prithee, come, Maria : I forgive all.
Maria. Stay there. That duty, that you charge me by, (If you consider truly what you say,) Is now another man's ; you gave 't away r the 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 am gone To bed for this night.
Petron. This is monstrous. That blessing that St. Dunstan gave the devil,
If I were near thee, I would give thee'',
Pull thee down by the nose !
Bianca. Saints should not rave, sir : A little rhubarb now were excellent.
Petru. Then, by that duty you owe to me, Maria, Open the door, and be obedient ! I am 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 — I '11 pay.
Maria. You are too hot, and such prove jades at length.
* low-bell] " A sheep's or goat's bell in a forest. This seems to be the present significatioa of the word ; Bianca, to whom it is addressed, being the rallying- point, the commander or bell-wether of the rebellious ladies. It may, however, refer to ' a kind of fowling,' as Dr. Johnson explains it, ' in which the birds are wakened by a bell, and lured by a flame into a net.'" Weber, — whose note I have retained for want of a more satisfactory explanation.
*• I u-ould give Ihee] Both the folios have a break after "thee". The Editors of 1778 silently printed " / would give thee, whore" ; and so Weber : but, if any word lias been omittid here in the folios, it was surely not "whore" ; the licenser, however scrupulous, would not have considered that word as offensive.
122 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act i.
You do confess a duty or respect to me from you again, That 's very near or full the same with mine 1
Petni. Yes.
Maria. Then, by that duty, or respect, or what You please to have it, go to bed and leave me, And trouble me no longer with your fooling ; For know, I am not for you.
Petru. Well, what remedy \ [To Petron., Sfc.
Petron. A fine smart cudgel. — Oh, that I were near thee !
Bianca. If you had teeth now, what a case were we in !
Mor. These are the most authentic rebels, next Tyrone'', I ever read of.
Maria. A week hence, or a fortnight, as you bear you, And as I find my will observed, I may, With intercession of some friends, be brought. May be, to kiss you ; and so quarterly To pay a little rent by composition. You understand me ?
Sojjh. Thou, boy, thou I
Petru. Well, There are more maids than Maudlin ; that 's my comfort.
Maria. Yes ; and more men than Michael.
Petim. I must not To bed with this stomach, and no meat, lady.
Maria. Feed where you will, so it be sound and wholesome ; Else live at livery 'i, for I '11 none with you.
Bianca. You had best back one of the dairy-maids ; they '11 carry : But take heed to your girths ; you '11 get a bruise else.
Petru. Now, if thou wouldst come down, and tender me All the delights due to a marriage-bed, Study such kisses as would melt a man, And turn thyself into a thousand figures, To add new flames unto me, I would stand Thus heavy, thus regardless, thus despising Thee and thy best allurings. All the beauty
■^ Tyrotiel " The celebrated earl of Tyrone, who was subdued by the Earl of Essex in the reign of Elizabeth." Weber.
^ Iivery'\ i. e. allowance of food (from niastci's to servants in great houses).
SCENE III.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 123
That 's laid upon your bodies, mark me well,
(For without doubt your minds are miserable,
You have no masks for them,) all this rare beauty,
Lay but the painter and the silk- worm by,
The doctor with his diets, and the tailor,
And you appear like flay'd cats ; not so handsome.
Maria. And we appear, like her that sent us hither, 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 us, then allays, And base ones, of you men, are mingled with us, And make us blush like copper.
Petru, Then, and never Till then, are women to be spoken of ; For till that time you have no souls, I take it. Good night.— Come, gentlemen : 1 11 fast for this night ; But, by this hand— Well, I shalle come up yet ?
Maria. No.
Petru. There will I watch thee like a wither'd jury ; Thou shalt neither have meat, fire, nor candle, Nor any thing that 's easy. Do you rebel so soon ? Yet take mercy.
Bianca. Put up your pipes ; to bed, sir. I '11 assure you A month's siege will not shake us.
Mor. Well said, colonel !
Maria. To bed, to bed, Petruchio. — Good night, gentle- men: You '11 make my father sick with sitting up. Here you shall find us any time these ten days, Unless we may march off with our contentment.
Petru. I '11 hang first.
Maria. And I '11 quarter, if I do not. 1 '11 make you know, and fear a wife, Petruchio ; There my cause lies. You have been famous for a woman-tamer,
' / shall] Silently altered by Syinpson to " shall 1 ".
124 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [aci i.
And bear the fearM name of a brave wife-breaker :
A woman now shall take those honours off, and tame you ; —
Nay, never look so big ; — she shall, believe me.
And I am she, — What think ye ? Good night to all :
Ye shall find sentinels
Bianca. If ye dare sally.
[Maria and Bianca loiihdraw from the ivindow.
Petron. The devil 's in 'em, even the very devil, The down-right devil !
Petry. I '11 devil 'em ; by these ten bones ^, I will ! I '11 bring it to the old proverb, " No sport, no pie." [Poxs], taken down i' the top of all my speed ! This is fine dancing ! Gentlemen, stick to me : You see our freehold 's toucliM ; and, by this light, We will beleaguer 'em, and either starve 'em out, Or make 'em recreant.
Petron. I '11 see all passages stopt but those about 'em. If the good women of the town dare succour 'em, We shall have wars indeed.
Soph. I '11 stand perdu •' upon 'em.
Mor. My regiment shall lie before.
Jaques. I think so; 'Tis grown too old to stand. \^ Aside.
Petru. Let 's in, and each provide his tackle : We '11 fire 'em out, or make 'em take their pardons (Hear what I say) on their bare knees'. Am I Petruchio, fear'd and spoken of. And on my vi'edding-night am I thus jaded I [Exeunt.
SCENE lY.—A hall in the same.
Eriter, severally, Roavland and Pedro. Hotel. Now, Pedro ? Pedro. Very busy, Master Rowland.
' ten bones'i " i- ^- ten fingers." Weber.
sf [Poo;'] A break here in both the foHos.
'' perdu] Which W^eber exphiins " forlorn hope ", — means here — in ambush, on the watch (as before, vol. ii. 237, vol. iii. 491.)
' knee.s] After this word, both the folios have a break, which perhaps should be filled up with " by Heaven ".
SCENE IV.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 125
Roicl AVhat haste, man ?
Pedro. I beseech you, pardon me, 1 am not mine own man.
Roicl. Thou art not mad ?
Pedro. No ; but, believe me, as hasty
Hold. The cause, good Pedro ?
Pedro. There be a thousand, sir. You are not married ?
Rowl. Not yet.
Pedro. Keep yourself quiet, then.
Roiol. Why?
Pedro. You 'II find a fiddle That never will be tun'd else : from all women — ' [ Exit.
Roicl. What ails the fellow, tro ?
Enter Jaques.
Jaquos !
Jaques. Your friend, sir ; But very full of business.
Raid. Nothing but business ! Prithee, the reason ? is there any dying ?
Jaques. I would there were, sir !
Roid. But thy business ?
Jaques. I '11 tell you in a word : I am sent to lay An imposition upon souce^^ and puddings, Pasties and penny custards, that the women May not relieve yon rebels. Fare you well, sir.
Rowl. How does my mistress ?
Jaques. Like a resty jade ; She's spoil'd for riding. [Exit.
Rowl. What a devil ail they ? Custards and penny pasties, fools and fiddles ! What 's this to the purpose ?
Enter Sophocles.
Oh, well met ! Soph. Now, Rowland ? I cannot stay to talk long.
J from all women — ] He means of course — from all vomon heaven deliver us ! '' soMce] i. e. provisions kept in pickle.
126 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act i.
Roivl. What 's the matter \ Here 's stirring, but to what end ? whither go you ?
Soph. To view the works.
Roiol. What works ?
Soph. The women's trenches.
Howl. Trenches ! are such to see ?
Soph. I do not jest, sir.
Hoivl. I cannot understand you.
Soph. Do not you hear In what a state of quarrel the new bride Stands with her husband ?
Roiol. Let him stand with lier, And there 's an end.
Soph. It should be ; but, by 'r lady, She holds him out at pike's end, and defies him, And now is fortified. Such a regiment of rutters ' Never defied men braver*" : I am sent To view their preparation.
Roivl. This is news Stranger than armies" in the air. You saw not My gentle mistress ?
Soph. Yes, and meditating Upon some secret business ; when she had found it. She leap'd for joy, and laugh'd, and straight retirM To shun Moroso.
Rozvl This may be for me.
Soph. Will you along ?
Row!. No.
Soph. Farewell.
Roivl. Farewell, sir. \^Exit Sophocles.
What should her musing mean, and what her joy in 't, If not for my advantage ? Stay you : may not That bob-tail jade Moroso, with his gold,
' rutters'\ Properly — German troopers (reiter, renter). " A play upon the word is here intended." Mason.
"' braver'] " Means here — more bravely." Mason.
° armies] The folios " amies " and " arms ". — " So in Wit without Money (vol. iv. 128),
' fiery battles
Seen in the air at Aspurg '. " Weber.
I
SCENE IV.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 127
His gewgauds'', and the hope she has to send him Quickly to dust, excite this ; Here she comes ; And yonder walks the stallion to discover : Yet I '11 salute her.
Enter, at one door, Livia, and, at another, Moroso hearJcening. Save you, beauteous mistress !
Livia. The fox is kennell'd for me.— Save you, sir !
lioicl. Why do you look so strange ?
Livia. I use to look, sir, Without examination.
Mar. Twenty spur-royals P for that word ! [Aside.
Roicl. Belike, then, The object discontents you \
Livia. Yes, it does.
Roid. Is ""t come to this ? you know me, do you not I
Livia. Yes, as I may know many, by repentance.
Roicl. Why do you break your faith ?
Livia. I "11 tell you that too : You are under age, and no band holds upon you.
Mor. Excellent wench ! [Aside.
Livia. Sue out your understanding ^, And get more hair to cover your bare knuckle '' (For boys were made for nothing but dry kisses), And, if you can, more manners.
Mor. Better still ! [Aside.
Livia. And then, if I want Spanish gloves, or stockings, A ten-pound waistcoat*, or a nag to hunt on. It may be I shall grace you to accept 'em.
Roivl. Farewell : and when I credit women more, May I to Smithfield, and there buy a jade (And know him to be so) that breaks my neck !
0 gewgaudfi] i. c. gewgaws.
P spur-Toyali] See note, vol. iii. 9. The Editors of 1778 and Weber print "spur-i-yals".
1 Sue out yonr under standing'\ See note, next page.
' knuckle] " Mason proposes to read ' noddle ', * as knuckles are not usually covered with hair'. But Rowland is a mere youth, and not likely to have lost the hair on his head. Livia evidently speaks of his chin, which she ludicrously calls ' knuckle.' " Weber.
* A ten-pound waislcoat] Sec the latter part of note, vol. i. 39 ; and compare vol. iii. 77, line seven, vol. vi. 72, last line but two, 452, line nine.
128 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act ii.
Livia. Because I have known you, V\\ be thus kind to you: Farewell, and be a man ; and I '11 provide you, Because I see you 're desperate, some staid chambermaid, That may relieve your youth with wholesome doctrine.
Mor. She 's mine from all the world ! [Aside, and then comes fonoard.^ — Ha, wench !
Livia. Ha, chicken ! [Gives Jdm a box on the ear, and exit.
Mor. How's this ? I do not love these favours. — Save you!
Roicl. The devil take thee ! [Wrings him hy the nose.
Mor. Oh!
RoivL There 's a love-token for you; thank me now. [Exit.
Mor. I '11 think on some of ye ; and, if I live. My nose alone shall not be play'd withal. [Exit.
ACT II.
SCENE I. — A room in the house n/*PETR0Nius.
Enter Petronius and Moroso.
Petron. A box o"* th^ ear, do you say ?
Mor. Yes, sure, a sound one ; Beside my nose blown to my hand. If Cupid Shoot arrows of that weight, I '11 swear devoutly, H'as sued his livery % and is no more a boy.
Petron. You gave her some ill language ?
Mor. Not a word.
Petron. Or, might be, you were fumbling ?
Mor. Would I had, sir ! I had been aforehand then; but to be baffled ^ And have no feeling of the cause
' H\is su'd his livery] " Livery. Delivery, or grant of possession ; a law term. - - To sue one''s livery was a phrase relative to the feudal tenures, > according to which the court of wards seized tlie lands of any tenant of the 'i crown upon his decease, till the heir sued out his livery, and by that process
came into possession As this was not done till a minor came of age, it
was occasionally used as an expression to denote maturity." Nares's Gloss.
' laffied^ i. e. disgraced, insulted : see notes, vol. ii. 28G, vol. iii. 399.
SCENE I.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 129
Petron. Be patient ; I have a medicine, clapt to her back, will cure her.
Mor. No, sure, it must be afore, sir.
Petron. O' my conscience, When I got these two wenches (who till now Ne'er shew'd their riding) I was drunk with bastard", Whose nature is to form things like itself. Heady and monstrous. Did she slight him too ?
Mor. That 's all my comfort : a more hobby-horse She made Child Rowland '' : 'sfoot, she would not know him, Not give him a free look, not reckon him Among her thoughts ; which I hold more than wonder, I having seen her within 's^^' three days kiss him With such an appetite as though she would eat him.
Petron. There is some trick in this. How did he take it?
Mor. Ready to cry ; he ran away.
Petron. I fear her : And yet I tell you, ever to my anger She is as tame as innocency. It may be This blow was but a favour.
Mor. I '11 be sworn 'Twas well tied on, then''.
Petron. Go to ! pray, forget it : 1 have bespoke a priest, and within 's two hours I '11 have ye married ; will that please you ?
" baslard'l See note, vol. ii. 427.
^ Child Rowland] An allusion to the ballad cited in Shakespeare's King Lear, act iii. sc. 4, —
" Child Rowland to the dark tower came," &c. of which (as appears from Jamieson's Popular Ballads and Songs, Sec. i. 217) fragments are still extant in Scotland. Child (a word rendered familiar to modern readers by Child Harold) means — a youth trained to arms, whether squire or knight : sec Narcs's (iloss. in v.
" within '.v] " Within '*• for tvilhin these is a vile contraction, wliich ought not to be continued in any good edition, though authorized by the old." Mason. Weber accoi'dingly gave " u-ithin these " : but I believe that this " vile contrac- tion " (which occui'S twice afterwards in the present play) was the author's. " T/iis blow was but a favour. Mor. / 'II be sworn 'Twas wf II tied on, then] " Moroso quibbles upon the favours [ribands, scarfs, &c.] given by ladies ", &c. Wkbf.r. VOL. vri. K
130 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act ii.
Mor. Yes.
Petron. I '11 see it done myself, and give the lady Such a sound exhortation for this knavery, I '11 warrant you, shall make her smell this month on 't.
Moj'. Nay, good sir, be not violent.
Petron. Neither.
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.
Mor. I reckon for the best still. This night, then, I shall enjoy her ?
Petron. You shall handsel her.
Mor. Old as I am, I '11 give her one blow for 't, Shall make her groan this twelvemonth.
Petron. Where 's your jointure ?
Mor. I have a jointure for her.
Petron. Have your counsel perus'd it yet ?
Mor. No counsel but the night, and your sweet daughter. Shall e'er peruse that jointure.
Petron. Very well, sir.
Mor. 1 11 no demurrers on 't, nor no rejoinders. The other 's ready seal'd.
Petron. Come, then, let 's comfort My son Petruchio ; he 's like little children That lose their bawbles, crying ripe.
Mor. Pray, tell me, Is this stern woman still upon the flaunt Of bold defiance ?
Petron. Still, and still she shall be, Till she be starv'd out : you shall see such justice, That women shall be glad, after this tempest, To tie their husbands' shoes, and walk their horses.
Mor. That were a merry world ! — Do you hear the rumour ? They say the women are in insurrection, And mean to make a >
y And mean to make a ] So both the folios, — to mark the omission of
something not over-delicate.
SCENE n.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE, 131
Petron. They'll sooner Draw upon walls as we do. Let Vm, let ^em : We '11 ship 'em out in cuck-stools ^ ; there they '11 sail As brave Columbus did, till they discover The happy islands of obedience. We stay too long ; come.
Mor. Now, St. George be with us ! [^Exeunt.
SCENE II. — The court before the house o/" Petruchio.
Enter Livia. Livia. Now, if I can but get in handsomely, Father, I shall deceive you ; and this night, For all your private plotting, I '11 no wedlock : I have shifted sail, and find my sister's safety^ A sure retirement. Pray to Heaven that Rowland Do not believe too far what I said to him ! For yon old fox-case'' forc'd me ; that 's my fear. Stay, let me see : this quarter fierce Petruchio Keeps with his myrmidons : I must be sudden ; If he seize on me, I can look for nothing But martial law ; to this place have I scap'd him. — Above there !
Maria and Bianca appear at a tcindoic.
Maria. Qui va la ?
Livia. A friend.
Bianca. Who are you ?
Livia. Look out and know.
Maria. Alas, poor wench, who sent thee ? What weak fool made thy tongue his orator? I know you come to parley.
Livia. You 're deceived.
' cuck-stools] i.e. chairs or stools fixed at the end of a long pole, used for the punishment of scolds and brawlers by plunging them in the water.
' my sister's safety] "Means— my sister's place of safety, her strong-hold." Mason.
** fox-case] i. e. fox-skin.
K 2
132 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act ii.
Urg'd by the goodness of your cause, I come To do as you do.
Maria. You Ve too weak, too foolish, To cheat us with your smoothness : do not we know Thou hast been kept up tame ?
Livia. BeHeve me !
Maria. No ; prithee, good Livia, Utter thy eloquence somewhere else.
Bianca. Good cousin. Put up your pipes ; we are not for your palate : Alas, we know who sent you !
Livia. O' my word
Bianca. Stay there ; you must not think " your word,'*' Or " by your maidenhead," or such Sunday oaths. Sworn after even-song, can inveigle us To loose our handfasf : did their wisdoms think That sent you hither, we would be so foolish To entertain our gentle sister Sinon*^, And give her credit, while the wooden jade Petruchio stole upon us ? No, good sister : Go home, and tell the merry Greeks^ that sent you. Ilium shall burn, and I, as did ^neas. Will on my back, 'spite of the myrmidons, Carry this warlike lady, and, through seas Unknown and unbeliev'd, seek out a land, Where, like a race of noble Amazons, We '11 root ourselves, and to our endless glory Live, and despise base men.
Livia. I '11 second ye.
Bianca. How long have you been thus ?
Livia. That 's all one, cousin ; I stand for freedom now.
<^ handfast'\ i. e. contract, union : we have had the word before, vol. i. 40, vol. iv. 79.
•• Sinon'^ " See Virgil's Mneid. [B. ii.] " Reed.
*= the merry Greeks'\ " This is a proverbial expression common in old books. As Mr. Steevens observes, * Grcpcari, among the Romans, signified to play the reveller.' " Weber. But see Gifford's note on Jonson's IVorks, iii. 261.
SCENE II.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 133
Bianca. Take heed of lying ; For, by this light, if we do credit you, And find you tripping, his infliction That kill'd the princu of Orange* will be sport To what we purpose.
Livia. Let me feel the heaviest.
Maria. Swear by thy sweetheart Rowland (for by your maidenhead I fear 'twill be too late to swear) you mean Nothing but fair and safe and honourable To us and to yourself.
Livia. I swear.
Bianca. Stay yet : Swear as you hate Moroso, (that 's the surest,) And as you have a certain fear to find him Worse than a poor dried jacks?; full of more aches Than Autumn has ; more knavery, and usury. And foolery, and brokery, than Dog's-Ditch'';
' That kill'd the prince of Orange'\ " This was Balthazar Gerard, who murdered the prince of Orange at Delft, on the 10th of July, 1584. The lioiTible 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 firet he had his right hand with a hotyron seared and cut off, \^liich did the deede, and cast into the fire : next of all, with firie hot pincei-s lie had his flesh torne and pluckt off" from sixe parts of his bodie, which were most fleshie, viz. of his breast, amies, 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 head, being chopt off", was with other foure parts of his bodie, as arms and feete, set upon foure poles on foui'e turrits or ports of the citie, fastened upon a long pole set upon the tumt of the schoole 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 Ilisloricall of the succeeding Governors in the Netherlands, and the Civil fVarres there begun in the 1/eere VaOb, &c. ito. 1602. B. L. p. 51." Reed.
K a poor dried jnck'] " By this is probably meant a Jack-a-lent, a kind of puppet, at wliich cudgels were thrown in Lent," &c. Weuer. It means simply — a dried jack-fish.
'' Dog's-Dilch] i.e. Houiid's-Ditch. The "brokery" in that quarter is frequently mentioned by our early writers : " Tell all the Brokers in Long-lauc, Ilounsditch, or else wher," &c. Dekker's Knights Coniuring, 1G07, Sig. H. " But into IlouHs-dilch, to the Brokers roe." Rowlands's Letting of humors blood in the head-vaine, &e. Sig. C 2. ed. 1611.
134 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. Uct u.
As you do constantly believe he 's nothing
But an old empty bag with a grey beard,
And that beard such a bob-tail, that it looks
Worse than a mare's tail eaten off with flies';
As you acknowledge that young handsome wench,
That lies by such a bilbo-blade, that bends
With every pass he makes to tli' hilts, most miserable,
A dry-nurse to his coughs, a fewtererJ
To such a nasty fellow, a robb'd thing
Of all delights youth looks for ; and, to end,
One cast away on coarse beef, born to brush
That everlasting cassock that has worn
As many servants out, as the North-East passage
Has consum'd sailors : if you swear this, and truly,
Without the reservation of a gown
Or any meritorious petticoat,
'Tis like we shall believe you.
Livia. I do swear it.
Maria. Stay yet a little : came this wholesome motion (Deal truly, sister) from your own opinion. Or some suggestion of the foe ?
Livia. Ne'er fear me ; For, by that little faith I have in husbands. And the great zeal I bear your cause, I come Full of that liberty you stand for, sister.
Maria. If we believe, and you prove recreant, Livia, Think what a maim you give the noble cause We now stand up for : think what women shall, An hundred years hence, speak thee, when examples Are look'd for, and so great ones, whose relations. Spoke as we do 'em, wench, shall make new customs.
Bianca. If you be false, repent, go home, and pray, And to the serious women of the city Confess yourself ; bring not a sin so heinous
i flies^ The folios « Fillyes " aud « Fillies."
^ fewterer'\ Was propei-ly the person who, immediately under the huntsman, took charge of the dogs, — who led out the lime-houuds and grey-hounds, and let them loose in the chase. See Giffoi'd's note on Massingei-'s Works, iii. 219. ed. 1813.
SCENE ii.J THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 135
To load thy soul to this place. Mark me, Livia ; If thou be'st double, and betray'st our honours. And we fail in our purpose, get thee where There is no women living, nor no hope There ever shall be.
Maria. If a mother'^s daughter, That ever heard the name of stubborn husband, 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, Come but i' the windward of thee (for sure she '11 smell thee, Thou 'It be so rank), she '11 ride thee like a nightmare, And say her prayers backward to undo thee^^; She '11 curse thy meat and drink, and, when thou marriest, Clap a sound spell for ever on thy pleasures.
Maria. Children of five year old, like little fairies. Will pinch thee into motley'; all that ever Shall live and hear of thee, I mean all women, Will, like so many Furies, shake their keys, And toss their flaming distaffs o'er their heads, Crying " revenge" ! Take heed ; 'tis hideous ; Oh, 'tis a fearful offence"' ! If thou hadst (Though thou be'st perfect now) when thou cam'st hither A false imagination, get thee gone, And, as my learned cousin said, repent : This place is sought by soundness.
^ say her prayers backward to undo thee] " This was supposed to be oue of the most powerful spells of witchcraft. So in act iv. scene ii. Petruchio
sajs,
' If there be any witchcrafts, herbs, or potions, Saying my prayers backward, iiends, or fairies. That can again unlove me, I am made'." Webf.r.
' IVill pinch thee into motleij'] " i. e. make thy skin of all colours, like the motley suit of [domestic] fools." Weber.
>" offence^^ Both the folios " office " ; and so the modern editors. — "If the measure did not greatly reclaim against it, I should have road ' ofience '. " SvMrsoN. " Let the measui'e reclaim never so loudly against it, yet the sense exclaims still louder that we must read 'offence '." IIeatu {MS. Notes).
136 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [actii.
Liivia. So I seek it, Or let me be a most despis'd example !
Maria. I do believe thee ; be thou worthy of it ! You come not empty I
Livia. No, here 's cakes and cold meat, And tripe of proof; behold, here 's wine and beer! Be sudden ; I shall be surpris'd else.
Maria. Meet At the low parlour-door ; there lies a close °^ way : What fond ° obedience you have living in you. Or duty to a man, before you enter Fling it away ; 'twill but defile your offerings".
Bianca. Be wary as you come.
Livia. I warrant you.
[Maria and ^lA^cxioithdrawfrom theioindoic. Exit Livia''.
SCENE III.— A street.
Enter, severally, Rowland and Tranio.
Tra. Now, Rowland ?
RowL How do you ?
Tra. How dost thou, man ? Thou look'st ill.
Ruiol. Yes. Pray, can you tell me, Tranio, Who knew the devil first ?
Tra. A woman.
Rowl. So. Were they not well acquainted ?
Tra. May be so. For they had certain dialogues together.
Roxol. He sold her fruit, I take it ?
"^ close'] \. e. private, secret. " fond] i. e. foolish.
" yotir offerings] Soil, the cakes, cold meat, &c., mentioned just ahove by Livia. Heath's correction (^[S. Notes). — Both the folios "our offerings"; and so the modern editors.
p Exit Livia] After this, both the folios have a short scene, which the first folio gives again (see p. 142 and note), but which the second foho does not repeat. The editor of the second folio evidently' retained it in the wrong place ; and so tlie modern editors.
.>CENE 111.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 137
Tra. Yes, and cheese That chok'd all mankind after.
Roicl. Canst thou tell me Whether that woman ever had a faith, After she had eaten ?
Tra. That 's a school- question.
Rozvl. No, It is no question ; for believe me, Tranio, That cold fruit, after eating, bred nought in her But windy promises and colic vows,
That broke out both ways. Thou hast heard, I am sure, Of J^sculapius, a far-famM surgeon. One that could set together quarterM traitors, And make 'em honest men.
Tra. How dost thou, Rowland ?
Boivl. Let him but take (if he dare do a cure Shall get him fame indeed) a faithless woman, (There will be credit for him that will speak him,) A broken woman, Tranio, a base woman, And, if he can cure such a wreck 'i of honour, Let him come here and practise.
Tra. Now, for honour's sake, Why, what ail'st thou, Rowland ?
Roivl. I am ridden, Tranio, And spur-galld to the life of patience —
"^ a wreck] Both the folios "a rack " (a misprint for "wrack", the old spel- ling of " wreck").— On the famous passage of Shakespeare's Tempest, act iv.
sc. 1,
" And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind ", Mr. Collier observes, " ' Ilack ' is vapour, from reek, as Home Tooke showed ; and the light clouds on the face of heaven are the ' rack ' or vapour from the earth. The word ' rack ' was oiten uskd i.n this way." Now, the trutli is, it was NEVER so used: though "the ruck" (i.e. the thin vapoury clouds, see vol. ii. 120, vol. v. 10, and present vol. p. 6G) is an expression very fruqueutly employed by our early writers, no passage can be adduced in which " a rack " (a single vapoury cloud) is mentioned. Urockett {Gloss, of North Country H^ords) gives " Rack, a track, a trace ", and insists that this is the meaning of the word as used in The Tempest. I am inclined to think that he is right : if not, " a rack " must be, as in the passage of our text, a misprint for " a wrack ", i. e. a wreck.
138 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act ii.
Heaven keep my wits together ! — by a thing Our worst thoughts are too noble for, a woman.
Tra. Your mistress has a little frownM, it may be I
Roiol She was my mistress.
Tra. Is she not ?
Roivl. No, Tranio : She has done me such disgrace, so spitefully, So like a woman bent to my undoing, That henceforth a good horse shall be my mistress, A good sword, or a book : and, if you see her, Tell her, I do beseech you, even for love-sake —
Tra. I will, Rowland.
Rowl. She may sooner count the good I have thought her, our 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 believe her : And, now I have met a messenger, farewell, sir. [Exit.
Tra. Alas, poor Rowland ! I will do it for thee. This is that dog Moroso ; but I hope To see him cold i' the mouth first, ere he enjoy her. I '11 watch this young man; desperate thoughts may seize him; And, if my purse or counsel can, I'll ease him. [Exit.
SCENE IV. — A room in the house o/'Petruchio.
Enter Petruchio, Petronius, Moroso, and Sophocles.
Petru. For, look you, gentlemen, say that I grant her, Out of my free and liberal love, a pardon. Which you and all men else know she deserves not, ( Teneatis, amici) can all the world leave laughing ?
Petron. I think not.
Petru. No, by [^Heaven'], they cannot ! For, pray, consider, have you ever read. Or heard of, or can any man imagine. So stiff a tomboy, of so set a malice,
' \_Heaven\ A break here in both the folios.
SCENE IV.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 139
And such a brazen resolution,
As this young crab-tree ? and then answer me :
And mark but this too, friends ; without a cause,
Not a foul word come 'cross her, not a fear
She justly can take hold on : and do you think
I must sleep out my anger, and endure it.
Sew pillows to her ease, and lull her mischief 1
Give me a spindle first ! No, no, my masters ;
Were she as fair as Nell-a-Greece, and housewife
As good as the wise sailor's wife^ and young still.
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 would tabor her,
Till all the legions that are crept into her
Flew out with fire i' the tails.
Soph. Methinks you err now ; For to me seems, a little sufferance Were a far surer cure.
Pelru. Yes, I can suffer, Where I see promises of peace and amendment. Mor. Give her a few conditions. Petru. I '11 be hang'd first ! Petron. Give her a crab-tree cudgel ! Petru. So I will ; And, after it, a flock-bed for her bones. And hard eggs, till they brace her hke a drum, She shall be pamper'd with";
She shall not know a stool in ten months, gentlemen. Soph. This must not be.
• the wise sailor's wife] « Meaning Penelope, the wife of Uljsses." Mason.
' ride the wild mare} lias previously occuiTcd (see note, vol. ii. 153) as another name for the childish sport of see-saiv. In the present passage, how- ever, the words have a very different meaning, Petruchio evidently intending to say that his wife should be mounted upon something, and well drubbed (" I would tabor her"). Brockett describes a punishment among the vulgar, inflicted on various offenders, called Ridirig the stang (i, e. long pole) : but, though dirt is thrown at the offenders in question, they are not subjected to any beating : see Gloss, of North Country Words in v. Slang.
" uilh'\ Both the folios have a break after this word,— something indelicate being omitted.
140 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act ii.
Enter Jaques. Jaques. Arm, arm ! out with your weapons ! For all the women in the kingdom 's on ye ; They swarm like wasps, and nothing can destroy 'em, But stopping of their hive, and smothering of 'em.
Enter Pedro.
Pedro. Stand to your guard, sir ! all the devils extant Are broke upon us like a cloud of thunder ; There are more women marching hitherward, In rescue of my mistress, than e'er turn'd tail At Sturbridge-fair", and, I believe, as fiery.
Jaques. The forlorn-hope 's led by a tanner's wife (I know her by her hide), a desperate woman ; She flay'd her husband in her youth, and made Reins of his hide to ride the parish. Take 'em all together, They are a genealogy of jennets, gotten And born thus by the boisterous breath of husbands^' ; They serve sure^^', and are swift to catch occasion (I mean, their foes or husbands) by the forelocks, And there they hang like favours "^ ; cry they can, But more for noble spite than fear ; and crying. Like the old giants that were foes to Heaven, They heave ye stool on stool, and fling main pot-lids Like massy rocks, dart ladles, tossing irons^,
" Sturbridge-fair'] i. e. the annual fair kept in the neighboui'hood of Cam- bridge (so named from the rivulet Stour and bridge).
' They are a genealogy of jennets gotten And born thus by the boisterous breath of husbands'] See note, vol. v. 273.
"" serve sure] " Sympson says, that to serve sure means to observe ; but it is a military phrase, and means to act like steady soldiers." Mason.
" favours] See last note, p. 129.
y tossing iro7is] Sympson proposed to read " toasting irons ", which was adopted by the Editors of 1778. Mason says (very erroneously) that "the word 'tossing ' is not used as an epithet of description, but as the participle of the vex'b to toss, and means only that they tossed about irons and tongs like thunderbolts." — A well-known line of Gammer Gurtons Nedle, 1575, is, — " My goodly tossing sporyars neele, chaue lost ich wot not where."
SigC. from which and tiie passage of our text Reed (apud Dodsley's Old Plays) imagined that tossing was formerly used to signify sharp. Nares (Gloss, in
SCENE IV.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 141
And tongs like thunderbolts, till, overlaid,
They fall beneath the weight ; yet still aspiring
At those imperious codsheads'^ that would tame 'em.
There 's ne'er a one of these, the worst and weakest,
(Choose where you will,) but dare attempt the raising,
Against the sovereign peace of Puritans,
A May-pole and a morris-', maugro mainly
Their zeal and dudgeon-daggers''; and yet more,
Dares plant a stand of battering ale against 'em,
And drink 'em out o' the parish.
Soph. Lo you, fierce Petruchio, this comes of your impatience !
Pedro. There 's one brought in the bears, against the canons Of the towTi, made it good, and fought 'em<^".
Jaques. Another, to her everlasting fame, erected Two ale-houses of ease, the quarter-sessions Running against her roundly ; in which business Two of the disannullers lost their night-caps ; A third stood excommunicate by the cudgel ; The constable, to her eternal glory. Drunk hard, and was converted, and she victor.
Pedro. Then are they victualled with pies and puddings (The trappings of good stomachs), noble ale (The true defender), sausages, and smok'd ones, If need be, such as serve for pikes, and pork (Better the Jews ne'er hated) ; here and there A bottle of metheglin, a stout Briton'* That will stand to 'em : what else they want, they war for.
V.) conjectures that " tossing irons ", in the present passage, may perhaps mean pokers.
' codsheads] So the first folio. — The second folio "godheads"; and so Sympson .
* but dare attempt the raising,
Against the sovereign peace of Puritans,
A May-pole and a morris'\ " The rage of the Puritans against these harmless sports has been ridiculed by Fletcher in another place, more at length and with strong humour, Women Pleased, act iv.", &c. Weber. See p. 02 sqc^. of the present volume.
b dudgeon-daggers] See notes, vol. iii. 19f!, vol. v. 427.
c Vm] Qy. " 'em too " ?
'' Briton] The correction of Weber, who observes that " Pedro evidently
142 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act ii.
Petru. Come, to council !
Soph. Now you must grant conditions, or the kingdom Will have no other talk but this.
Petron. Away, then I And let 's advise the best.
Soph. Why do you tremble ?
Mor. Have I liv'd thus long to be knock'd o' the head With half a washing-beetle I Pray, be wise, sir.
Petru. Come : something I'll do''; but what it is, I know not.
Soph. To council, then, and let 's avoid their follies. Guard all the doors, or we shall not have a cloak left.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.e—J street.
Enter a Maid, meeting tico other Maids.
First Maid. How goes the ^business, girls?
Sec. Maid. A-foot and fair.
Third Maid. If fortune favour us. Away to your strength § ! The country forces are arriv'd : begone ! We are discover'd else.
First Maid. Arm, and be valiant !
Sec. Maid. Think of our cause !
Third Maid. Our justice !
First Maid. 'Tis sufficient. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI. — The court before the house o/' Petruchio. Enter Petronius, Petruchio, Moroso, Sophocles, and Tranio.
Petron. I am indifferent, though, I must confess, I had rather see her carted.
calls the Welsh liquor metheglin ' a stout Briton ' ". The folios have "Britaine" and "Britain"; and so Sympson and the Editors of 1778.
"1 something I Ul do, &c.] See the last note on act v, sc. 3.
e Scene V., &c.] See note, p. 136. Here, doubtless, the poet, as well as the editor of the fix-st folio, intended this scene to stand. When the editor of the second folio and the modern editors struck it out here, they seem not to have perceived that its omission occasioned the awkwardness of Petruchio, Petronius, &c. re-entering immediately after their Exeunt.
' thel So the first folio in the repetition of this scene : earlier, it has " your "; and so the second folio, and the modern editors.
If strength'] i. e. strong-hold.
SCENE VI.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 143
_ Tra. No more of that, sir.
I Sofh. Are you resolvM to give her fair conditions? 'Twill be the safest way.
Petru. I am distracted : Would I had run my head into a halter When I first woo'd her ! If I offer peace, She '11 urge her own conditions ; that 's the devil. Sopli. Why, say she do I Petru. Say, I am made an ass, then ! I know her aim. May I with reputation, (Answer me 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^ labours to reclaim her. Which would have made Don Hercules horn-mad, And hid him in his hide, suffer this Cicely, Ere she have warm'd my sheets, ere grappled with me, This pink s, this painted foist '', this cockle-boat. To hang her fights ' out, and defy me, friends, A well-known man of war I If this be equal \ And I may suffer ^^ say, and I have done. Petron. I do not think you may. Tra. You Ul make it worse, sir.
Soph. Pray, hear me, good Petruchio. But even now , You were contented to give all conditions. To try how far she would carry : 'tis a folly
I *■' pin At] "Pink. A vessel with a narrow stern ; pinque, French. Hence all vessels so formed are called pink-stemed. Chambers. In the French Manuel Lexiqne it is thus defined : ' Nom d'un vaisseau de charge qui s'appelle aussi flutte. II est plat de varange (flat-bottomed), et il a le derriere ronde.' It is not, in fact, an obsolete term at sea." Narcs's Gloss. — " A Pink (small ship), Navicula." Coles's Did. — Weber illustrates the present passage by citing
" The fellow 's a shrewd fellow at a pink "
from Ford's Lady's Trial, act iiL sc. 1, where "at a pink " means — at a stab, at fighting !!!
^ foisf] Sec note, vol. i. 296.
' fights'\ See note, vol. v. 233.
J equal"] i. e. just, proper.
'' suffer"] Heath {MS. Notes ) would read " suffer 't " : but the alteration is not necessarv.
144 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [actxi.
(And you will find it so) to clap the curb on, Ere you be sure it proves a natural wildness, And not a forc'd. Give her conditions ; For, on my life, this trick is put into her
Petron. I should believe so too.
Soph. And not her own.
Tra. You '11 find it so.
Soph. Then, if she flounder with you. Clap spurs on ; and in this you '11 deal with temperance, Avoid the hurry of the world
Tra. And lose
Mor. No honour, on my life, sir.
Petru. I will do it. [_Music above.
Petron. It seems they are very merry.
Petru. Why, Heaven ^ hold it !
Enter Jaques.
Mor. Now, Jaques 1
Jaques. They are i' the flaunt, sir.
Soph. Yes, we hear 'em.
Jaques. They have got a stick of fiddles, and they firk "" it In wondrous ways : the two grand capitanoes (They brought the auxiliary regiments °) Dance with their coats tuckM up to their bare breeches, And bid the kingdom kiss 'em ° ; that 's the burden : They have got metheglin and audacious ale, And talk like tyrants i".
Petron. How know'st thou ?
Jaques. I peep'd in At a loose lansket ''.
' Heaven^ So the second folio. — The first folio " God".
'" stick ----- firk"] " Pex'haps we should read — ' stock '. To 'firk ' in the present passage means — to gambol, caper" [see notO; vol. iv. 216]. , Weber. I
" They brought the auxiliary regiments'] " i. e. They zvko brought ", &c. Mason.
" And bid the kingdom kiss 'em] So the second folio. — The first folio " And I bid them kisse 'em ".
p tyrants] " An allusion to the rant of Herod and other characters in the 't old moralities." Weber. Perhaps so.
t lansket] " This word, the meaning of which is evident [!], I have not met
-CEXE Ti.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 146
Tra. Hark !
Petron. A song ! Pray, silence.
SONG' (within). A health, for all this day, To the woman that bears the sway,
And wears the breeches ;
Let it come, let it come ! Let this health be a seal. For the good of the common-weal.
The woman shall wear the breeches ! Let 's di-ink, then, and laugh it. And merrily, nieiTily quaff it. And tipple and tipple a round :
Here 's to thy fool,
And to my fool ;
Come, to all fools. Though it cost us, wench, many a pound !
Mor. They look out.
[[Maria, Bianca, with City-women, and Country- women, appear at the icindoics. Petru. Good even, ladies ! Maria. Good you good even, sir ! Petru. How have you slept to-night ? Maria. Exceeding well, sir. Petru. Did you not wish me with you ? Maria. No, believe me, I never thought upon you. First Count. W. Is that he I Bianca. Yes.
First Count. W. Sir !
Soph. She has drunk ^ hard ; mark her hood.
First Count. W. You are
Soph. Learnedly drunk, 1 '11 hang else. Let her utter.
with elsewhere." Weber. " I have no knowledge of this word," says Nares, citing the present passage {Gloss, in v.), " but by the context it seems to mean the pannel of a door, a lattice, or something of that Kind." Can it mean— a lancet-window ?
' Song] " This Song appeared first in the second folio." Weber.
• drunk'\ The second folio happens to have " drank " ; and so the modern editors !
VOL. VM. L
146 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act ii.
First Count. W. And I must tell you, viva voce, friend, A very foolish fellow.
Tra. There 's an ale-figure.
Petru. I thank you, Susan Brotes.
First City-W. Forward, sister.
First Count. W. You have espoused here a hearty woman, A comely, and courageous
Petru. Well, I have so.
First Count. W. And, to the comfort of distressed damsels, Women out-worn in wedlock, and such vessels. This woman has defied you.
Petru. It should seem so.
First Count. W. And why ?
Petru. Yes, can you tell ?
First Count W. For thirteen causes.
Petru. Pray, by your patience, mistress
First City-W. Forward, sister.
Petru. Do you mean to treat of all these ?
First City-W. Who shall let her t ?
Petron. Do you hear, velvet-hood ? we come not now To hear your doctrine.
First Count. W. 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 !
Soph. Good three-pil'd " predication, will you peace. And hear the cause we come for ?
First Count. W. Yes, bob-tails. We know the cause you come for ; here 's the cause :
[Pointiny to Maria. But never hope to carry her, never dream Or flatter your opinions with a thought Of base repentance in her.
First City- W. Give me sack : By this, and next, strong ale
First Count. W. Swear forward, sister.
« let her] "i.e. hinder her". Ed. 1778. " three-pil'd] See note, vol. i. 296.
SCENE VI.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 147
First City- W. By all that 's cordial, in this place we '11 bury Our bones, fames, tongues, our triumphs, and then all That ever yet was chronicled of woman, But this brave wench, this excellent despiser. This bane of dull obedience, shall inherit Her liberal will, and march off with conditions Noble and worth herself.
First Count. W. She shall, Tom Tilers ^ And brave ones too : my hood shall make a hearse-cloth, And I lie under it like Joan o"" Gaunt, Ere I go less"' ; my distaff stuck up by me, For the eternal trophy of my conquests, And loud Fame at my head with two main bottles vShall fill to all the world the glorious fall Of old Don Gillian.
First City- W. Yet a little further. We have taken arms in rescue of this lady. Most just and noble : if ye beat us off, Without conditions, and we recreant^, Use us as we deserve ; and first degrade us Of all our ancient chambering y, next that. The symbols of our secresy, silk stockings,
^ Tom Tilers] Equivalent to— hen-pecked husbands. The allusion is to an early drama (said to have been pi-inted in 1578, but known at present only from the ed. of IGGl) called Tom Tyler and his Wife, in which the lady lords it unmercifully over lier husband.
"■ I go less] " i. e. I put up with worse conditions." Weber. It is a phrase borrowed from gaming, and means properly — play for a smaller stake : it has occurred before frequently ; see notes, vol. ii. 486, vol. iv. 395, &c.
'^ and we recreant] Both the folios "and we recant"; and so the modern editors. — I give the correction of Mason, who observes ; " considering the con- text, I have no doubt but we should read ' and we recreant ' ; for she proceeds in recitmg the punishment of recreant knights : and in the 124th page, Petru-
chio says —
' We will beleaguer 'em, and cither starve 'em out,
Or make 'era recreant.' " Later in the play (p. 134), Maria says,
" If we believe, and you prove recreant, Livia, Think what a maim you give the noble cause," &c. Weber declares that he would have adopted Mason's emendation, " if recreant could liave been found in any other instance to have been used as a verb." But it is not used here as a verb : " and we recreant " means — and we being recreant. '' chambering] " i. e. intriguing." Weber.
L 2
148 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [acth.
Hew off our heels ; our petticoats of arms Tear off our bodies, and our bodkins break Over our coward heads.
First Count. W. And ever after, To make the tainture most notorious, At all our crests {videlicet, our plackets-^) Let laces hang, and we return again Into our former titles, dairy-maids.
Petru. No more wars ! puissant ladies, shew conditions, And freely I accept 'em.
Maria. Call in Livia ; She 's in the treaty too.
Livia appears above.
Mor. How ! Livia !
Maria, Hear you that, sir ? There 's the conditions for you ; pray, peruse 'em.
[ Throios doivn a paper.
Petron. Yes, there she is : 't had been no right rebellion. Had she held off. What think you, man ?
Mor. Nay, nothing : I have enough o' the prospect : o' ray conscience, The world's end and the goodness of a woman Will come together.
Petron. Are you there, sweet lady ?
Livia. 'Cry you mercy, sir ! I saw you not : your blessing !
Petron. Yes, when I bless a jade that stumbles with me. — How are the articles ?
Livia. This is for you, sir ; And I shall think upon 't. [ Throws doivn a paper to Moroso.
Mor. You have usM me finely !
Livia. There is no other use of thee now extant. But to be hung up, cassock, cap, and all. For some strange monster at apothecary's*.
^■plackets'] "i. e. petticoats." Weber. But see uote, vol. vi. 508.
« at apothecary' s'] i. e. at the apothecary's (our early writers frequently omitting " the " in such expressions ; see, for instance, the quotation from Middleton in note, vol. iii. 524). — Both the folios have " of/ Apothecaries " ; and so Weber, who says " i. e., I suppose, at Apotliecaries" Hall." Sympson and file Editors of 1778 silently printed "a< th' apntfiecuri/'s."
SCENE VI. J THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 149
Petron. 1 hear you, whore !
Livia. It must bo his, then, sir ; For need will then compel me'\
First City- JV. "Blessing on thee !
Livia. He will undo me in mere pans of coals To make him lusty.
Petron. There 's no talking to ""em. — How are they, sir ?
Petru. As I expected : liberty and clothes,
[Loohinr/ at the paper. When, and in what way she will ; continual moneys, Company, and all the house at her dispose ; No tongue to say " why is this," or " whither will it ? " New coaches, and some buildings, she appoints here ; Hangings, and hunting-horses ; and for plate And jewels for her private use, I take it, Two thousand pound in present ; then for music And women to read French
Petron. This must not be.
Pelru. And at the latter end a clause put in, That Livia shall by no man be importun'd. This whole month yet, to marry.
Petron. This is monstrous !
Petru. This shall be done ; I '11 humour her a while : If nothing but repentance and undoing Can win her love, I '11 make a shift for one.
Soph. When ye are once a-bed, all these conditions Lie under your own seal.
Maria. Do you like 'em?
Petru. Yes ; And, by that faith I gave you Tore the priest, I '11 I'atify 'em.
'' Petron. I hear you, whore !
Livia. It must be his, then, sir ; For need will then compel me] "There is little, if auy, sense in this passage as it stands. We should read,
' / must be his, then, sir, For need will then compel me.' and Livia's meaning is, If I am to be a whore, I must first be his wife, and then need will compel me to become so." Mason, — an alteration which Weber adopted : but the old reading conveys the same meaning.
150
THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act u.
First Count. W. Stay : what pledges ?
Maria. No, I '11 take that oath : — But have a care you keep it.
First City-W. " 'Tis not now As when Andrea liv'd " c.
First Count. W. If you do juggle, Or alter but a letter of these articles We have set down, the self-same persecution —
Maria. Mistrust him not.
Petru. By all my honesty^
Maria. Enough ; I yield.
Petron. What 's this inserted here I
Soph. That the two valiant women that command here Shall have a supper made 'em, and a large 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 to pay 'em, They shall have justice. I ordain ye all Paymasters, gentlemen.
Tra. Then we shall have sport, boys.
Maria. We '11 meet you in the parlour. [All above withdraio.
Petru. Ne'er look sad, sir ; For I will do it.
Soph. There 's no danger in 't.
Petru. For Livia's article, you shall observe it ; I have tied myself.
Petron. I will.
Petru. Along, then. Now Either I break, or this stiff plant must bow. [Exeunt.
c " ' Tis not now
As when Andrea /iu'rf"] The modem editors were not aware that this is a •luotation from Kyd's Spanish Tragedy (see note, vol. ii. 135) ;
" How now, girl ? Why com'st thou sadly to salute us thus 1 Content thyself, for I am satisfied : It is not now as when Andrea liv'd ; We have forgotten and forgiven that, And thou art graced with a happier love."
Act iv.— Dodsley's Old Plays, iii 180, last cd.
scKNEi.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 151
ACT III.
SCENE I.— A street.
Enter Tranio and Rowland.
Tra. Come, you shall take my counsel. Rowl. I shall hang first ! I '11 no more love, that 's certain ; 'tis a bane, Next that they poison rats with, the most mortal : No, I thank Heaven, I have got my sleep again, And now begin to write sense ; I can walk ye A long hour in my chamber like a man, And think of something that may better me, Some serious point of learning or my state '^; No more aye-me's and misereri^s'^, Tranio, Come near my brain. I '11 tell thee ; had the devil But any essence in him of a man, And could be brought to love, and love a woman, 'Twould make his head ache worser than his horns do, And firk him^' with a fire ho never felt yet, Would make him dance. I tell thee, there is nothing (It may be thy case, Tranio, therefore hear me) Under the sun (reckon the mass of follies Crept into the world with man) so desperate, So mad, so senseless, poor and base, so wretched, Roguy and scurvy
Tra. Whither wilt thou, Rowland I
Rowl. As 'tis to be in love.
<^ state] i. e. estate.
^ misererV s] The correction of Sjmpson, who compares the following passage in act V. sc. 2, —
" the two Fish-Streets, Were she but once arriv'd among the whitings, Would sing a woful misereri." The first folio has " miseries " ; the second " mistrisses."
' firk him] " i. e. teaze, irritate him. Our authors arc remarkably fond of this word with it various meanings." Weber. See note, vol. iv. 216.
152 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iii.
Tra. And why, for virtue-sake \
Rowl And why, for virtue's sake ! dost thou not conceive me?
Tra. No, by my troth.
Roicl. Pray, then, and heartily, For fear thou fall into 't. I '11 tell thee why too, For I have hope to save thee : when thou lov"'st, And first beginn'st to worship the gilt calf, Imprimis, thou hast lost thy gentry, And, like a 'prentice, flung away thy freedom ; Forthwith thou art a slave.
Tra. That 's a new doctrine.
Rowl. Next, thou art no more man.
Tra. What, then?
RoicL A frippery^, — Nothing but braided hair, and penny riband, Glove, garter, ring, roseS; or, at best, a swabber : If thou canst love so near to keep thy making, Yet thou wilt lose thy language 'i.
Tra. Why?
Rowl. Oh, Tranio, Those things in love ne'er talk as we do !
Tra. No ?
Rowl. No, without doubt ; they sigh, and shake the head, And sometimes whistle dolefully.
Tra. No tongue ?
Rowl. Yes, Tranio, but no truth in 't, nor no reason : And when they cant' (for 'tis a kind of canting), You shall hear, if you reach to understand 'era, (Which you must be a fool first, or you cannot,) Such gibberish ; such, believe me — /protest, siveet — And, Ohy dear Heavens, in lohich such constellations Reign at the births of lovers — tliis is too iccll !
f A fripperi/] " i. e. an old clothes' shop." Weber. Compare a passage iu Wit without Money, vol.iv. 135.
* rose'\ i. e. knot of ribands for the shoe.
^ If thou canst love so near to keep thy viaking, Yet thou wilt lose thy language} "i. e. if you can love so prudently and thriftily as to preserve thy making, yet thou wilt lose thy language." MvsoN.
' cant] i. e. use their jargon (the word was propei-ly applied to beggai's).
SCENE!.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 153
And, deign me, ladi/, deign me, I beseech you, You\i''}poor unworthy lump — and then she licks him.
Tra. A [poxJ] on 't, this is nothing !
Raid. Thou hast hit it. Then talks she ten times worse, and wries, and wriggles, As though she had the itch (and so it may be.)
Tra. ^^'hy, thou art grown a strange discoverer.
RoicL Of mine own follies, Tranio.
Tra. Wilt thou, Rowland, Certain ne'er love again I
Roiol. I think so, certain ; And, if I be not dead-drunk, I shall keep it.
Tra. Tell me but this ; what dost thou think of women \
Raid. Why, as I think of fiddles ; they delight me, Till their strings break.
Tra. What strings ?
Roid. Their modesties, Faiths, vows, and maidenheads ; for they are like kits, They have but four strings to 'em.
Tra. What wilt thou Give me for ten pound now, when thou next lov'st, And the same woman still?
Raid. Give me the money ; A hundred, and my bond for't.
Tra. But, pray, hear me ; 1 'U work all means I can to reconcile ye.
Roid. Do, do ; give me the money.
Tra. There. [^Gives money.
Raid. Work, Tranio.
Tra. You shall go sometimes where she is.
Raid. Yes, straight. This is the first good I e'er got by woman.
Tra. You would think it strange now, if another beauty As good as hers, say better
Roid. WclH Tra. (Conceive me, This is no point o' the wager.)
J [/)0J'] A break here in both the folios.
154 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iu.
Roicl. That 's all one.
Tra. Love you as much, or more, than she now hates you.
Rowl. 'Tis a good hearing ; let 'em love : ten pound more, I never love that woman.
Tra, There it is ; [^Gives money.
And so an hundred, if you lose.
Rowl. 'Tis done. Have you another to put in I
Tra. No, no, sir.
Rowl. I am very sorry. Now will I erect A new game, and go hate for the bell ^ ; I am sure I am in excellent case to win.
Tra. I must have leave To tell you, and tell truth too, what she is. And how she suffers for you.
Rowl. Ten* pound more, I never believe you.
Tra. No, sir ; I am stinted.
Rowl. Well, take your best way, then.
Tra. Let 's walk. I am glad Your sullen fever 's off.
Rowl. 'Shalt see me, Tranio, A monstrous merry man now. Let '& to the wedding ; And, as we go, tell me the general hurry Of these mad wenches, and their works.
Tra. I will.
Roicl. And do thy worst.
Tra. Something I '11 do.
Rowl. Do, Tranio. [^Exeunt.
SCENE IL — A room in the house o/"Petruchio.
Enter Pedro and Jaques. Pedro. A pair of stocks bestride ""em ! are they gone ? Jaques. Yes, they are gone ; and all the pans i' the town Beating before 'em. What strange admonitions
•* go hate for the bell] " May mean," says Weber, " I will endeavour to obtain renown by being the first in the rank of woman-haters," with an allusion to the expression, bear the bell.
SCENE II.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 155
They gave my master, and how fearfully They threaten'd, if he broke 'em !
Pedro. O' my conscience, H'as found his full match now.
Jaques. That I believe too.
Pedro. How did she entertain him ?
Jaques. She look\l on him
Pedro. But scurvily 1
Jaques. With no great affection That I saw : and I heard some say he kiss'd her, But 'twas upon a treaty ; and some copies Say, but her cheek.
Pedro. Jaques, what wouldst thou give For such a wife now I
Jaques. Full as many prayers As the most zealous Puritan conceives Out of the meditation of fat veal, Or birds of prey, crammed capons, against players, And to as good a tune too ; but against her, — — That Heaven would bless me from her ! Mark it, Pedro ; If this house be not turn'd within this fortnight With the foundation upward, I '11 be carted. My comfort is yet, that those Amorites That came to back her cause, those heathen whores. Had their hoods hallowed with sack.
Pedro. How devilish drunk they were I
Jaques. And how they tumbled, Pedro ! didst thou mark The country cavaliero ?
Pedro. Out upon her ! How she turn'd down the bragget' !
Jaques. Ay, that sunk her.
Pedro. That drink was well put to her : what a somersalt'", When the chair fell, she fetched, with her heels upward I
Jaques. And what a piece of landskip she discovered !
Pedro. Didst mark her when her hood fell in the posset I
' bragget] Written also braygat, braggot, and bracket — is a drink usually composed of honey, ale, and spices.
" somersalt'\ i. e. (as the word is now corrupted) somereet. So the second folio.— The first folio " sober salt."
156 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iir.
Jaques. Yes, and there rid, like a Dutch hoy. The tumbrel", When she had got her ballass°
Pedro. That I saw too.
Jaques. How fain she would have drawn on Sophocles To come aboard, and how she simper'd it
Pedro. I warrant her, she has been a worthy striker p.
Jaques. V i\\ heat of summer, there had been some hope on't.
Pedro. Hang her !
Jaques. She offer'd him a Harry-groat^, and belch'd out. Her stomach being blown with ale, such courtship. Upon ray life, has given him twenty stools since ; Believe my calculation : these old women, When they are tippled and a little heated. Are like new wheels ; they '11 roar you all the town o'er Till they be greasM.
Pedro. The city cinque-pace'', Dame Toast-and-Butter, had the bob^ too.
Jaques. Yes : But she was sullen drunk, and given to filching ; I saw* her offer at a spoon. — My master ! I do not like his look ; I fear h'as fasted, For all this preparation : let 's steal by him. \^Exeunt.
Enter Petruchio and Sophocles. Soph. Not let you touch her all this night ! Petru. Not touch her. Soi)h. Where was your courage ? Petru. Where was her obedience ?
" tumbrel] " Is a kind of bum-boat, unfit for sailing." Mason. So the second folio.— The first folio " tumorel " (but towards the eud of the act " tumbrell ").
° ballass] i. e. ballast. — Silently altei'ed to " ballast" by the Editors of 1778 ; aud so Weber.
P striker] See note, vol. iv. 217.
1 a Harry-groat] See note, vol. iii. 21.
■■ cinque-pace] So the first folio. — The second folio "cinque-a.-pace ;" and so Sympson and the Editors of 1 778. " Cinque-pace, as Sir John Hawkins observes, is ' the name of a dance, the measures whereof are regulated by the number five [the same as a galliai'dj '." Weber.
' had the bob] Seems used here, as Weber observes, in the sense of — was drunk.
' saw] Both the folios "see" ; and so the modern editors.
scENK II.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 157
Never poor man was shara'd so ; never rascal That keeps a stud of whores was us'd so basely.
Soph. Pray you, tell me one thing truly ; do you love her ?
Petru. I would I did not, upon that condition I pass'd thee half my land !
Soph. It may be, then, Her modesty requir'd a little violence : Some women love to struggle.
Petru. She had it, And so much that I swet for 't, so I did : But to no end ; I wasliM an Ethiop. She swore my force might weary her, but win her I never could nor should, till she consented ; And I might take her body prisoner, But for her mind or appetite
Soph. 'Tis strange : This woman is the first I ever read of, Refus'd a warranted 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 the matter, She grow not nearer to me, and despatch'd me Out of the pain I was (for I was nettled), And willingly, and eagerly, and sweetly, I would to her chamber-maid, and, in her hearing. Begin her such a hunt's- up " !
Soph. Then she started?
Petru. No more than I do now : marry, she answer'd, If I were so disposed, she could not help it ; But there was one calfd Jaques, a poor butler, One that might well content a single woman.
So]}h. And he should tilt her ?
Petru. To that sense : — and las«t,
" (juiQ i. c. requite.
" little ones'] Soil. o.aths.
"■ II hnnt'K-up] See note, vol. v. Jij.
158 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iit.
She bade me yet these six nights look for nothing, Nor strive to purchase it, but fair good-night, And so good-morrow, and a kiss or two To close my stomach ; for her vow had seal'd it. And she would keep it constant.
Soph. Stay you, stay you : Was she 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 Another spoke 's i' the wheel.
Petru. Now thou hast found me : There gnaws my devil, Sophocles. Oh, Patience, 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 : she has studied A way to beggar 's both ; and, by this hand. She shall be, if I live, a doxy \
Enter., and remain at one side of the stage, IMaria, a Servant, and
a Waiting-woman. Soph. Fie, sir !
Maria. I do not like that dressing ; 'tis too poor : Let me have six gold laces, broad and massy, And betwixt every lace a rich embroidery ; Line the gown through with plush perfum'd, and purfle All the sleeves down with pearl.
Petru. What think 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 ;
* a doxy] i. e. a beggar's wench. See note on The Beggars' Bush, act. ii. sc. 1 . y state} i. e. estate.
SCENE 11.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 159
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 satin give my woman ; I do not like the colour, 'tis too civiP; There 's too much silk i' the lace too. Tell the Dutchman That brought the mares, he must with all speed send me Another suit of horses ; and, by all means. Ten cast of hawks for the river ^ ; I much care not What price they bear, so they be sound and flying ; For the next winter I am for the country, And mean to take my pleasure. Where 's the horseman ?
Enter Horseman.
Petru. She means to ride a great-horse '^.
Soph. With a side-saddle ?
Petru. Yes ; and she '11 run a-tilt within this twelvemonth.
Maria. To-morrow I '11 begin to learn : but, pray, sir, Have a great care he be an easy doer ; 'Twill spoil a scholar else.
Soph. An easy doer ! Did you hear that ?
Petru. Yes ; I shall meet her morals'^ Ere it be long, I fear not.
Maria [coming f one ard]. Oh, good morrow !
[Exeunt Servant, Waiting-woman, and Horseman.
Soph. Good morrow, lady : how is 't now I
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. What think you of the lodge, then 2
* ciuiV] " i. e. grave, sober." Weber.
• Ten cast of hawks for the river'\ i. e. ten couple of liawks for killing the greater game which frequents the river : see Gifford's note on Jonson's Works, viii. 258.
'• a great-horse] " The great-horse, (anciently the destrere,) is the tourna- ment and war-horse, in opposition to the palfrey and hunting-nag." Weber. "= morals'] i. e. meanings.
160 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act hi.
Maria. I like the seat, but 'tis too little. — Sophocles, Let me have thy opinion ; thou hast judgment.
Petru. 'Tis very well !
Maria. What, if I pluck it down, And build a square upon it, with two courts Still rising from the entrance ?
Petru. And i' the 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 I
Petru. An you could cast yourself so too ! \^Aside.^ — Pray, lady. Will not this cost much money ?
Maria. Some five thousand ; Say six. I '11 have it battled '^ too.
Petru. And gilt ? — Maria, This is a fearful course you take : pray, think on 't : You are a woman now, a wife, and his That must in honesty and justice look for Some due obedience from you.
Maria. That bare word Shall cost you many a pound more, build upon 't : Tell me of due obedience ! what 's a husband ? What are we married for I to carry sumpters*^? Are we not one piece with you, and as worthy Our own intentions as you yours ?
Petru. Pray, hear me.
Maria. Take two small drops of water, equal weigh'd, Tell me which is the heaviest, and which ought First to descend in duty I
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 have brought you, and of what T am, And what our name may be.
<* battled'^ i. e. battlemented.
= sumpt,ers'\ See note, vol. ii. 440. ;
i
SCENE II.] THE WOMAM'S PRIZE. 161
Maria. That 's in my making.
Petru. 'Tis true, it is so.
Maria. Yes, it is, Petruchio ; For there was never man without our moulding, ^Vithout our stamp upon him, and our justice, Left any thing, three ages after him. Good, and his own.
Soph. Good lady, understand him.
Maria. I do too much, sweet Sophocles : he 's one Of a most spiteful self-condition, Never at peace with any thing but age, That has no teeth left to return his anger : A bravery dwells in his blood yet of abusing His first good wife ; he 's sooner fire than powder, And sooner mischief.
Petru. If I be so sudden, Do not you fear me I
Maria. No, nor yet care for you ; And, if it may be lawful, I defy you.
Petru. Does this become you now ?
Ma?'ia. It shall become me.
Petru. Thou disobedient, weak, vain-glorious woman, Were I but half so wilful as thou spiteful, I should now drag thee to thy duty.
Maria. Drag me !
Petru. But I am friends again ; take all your pleasure.
Maria. Now you perceive him, Sophocles.
Petru. I love thee Above thy vanity, thou fiiithless creature !
Maria. [ To Sophocles] Would I had been so happy, when I married. But to have met an honest man like thee (For I am sure thou art good, I know thou art honest), A handsome hurtless man, a loving man, Though never a penny with him, and tliose eyes, That face, and that true heart ! W^car this for my sake,
[^Gii'cs him a ring. And, when thou think'st upon me, pity me ; I am cast away. \^E.xit.
VOL. VII. M
162 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act in.
Soph. Why, how now, man ?
Petru. Pray, leave me, And follow your advices.
Soph. The man's jealous. \^Aside.
Petru. I shall find a time, ere it be long, to ask you One or two foolish questions.
Soph. I shall answer
As well as I am able, when you call me.
If she mean true, 'tis but a little killing,
And, if I do not venture, it's ^ [Aside.
Farewell, sir.
Petru. Pray, farewell. [E.vit Sophocles.
Is there no keeping A wife to one man's use ? no wintering These cattle without straying 1 'tis hard dealing, Very hard dealing, gentlemen, strange dealing ! Now, in the name of madness, what star reign'd, What dog-star, bull or bear-star, w^hen I married This second wife, this whirlwind, that takes all Within her compass ? was I not well warn'd, (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 enough To turn my love too ? did I want vexation. Or any special care to kill my heart ? Had I not every 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 there evening That e'er pass'd over us without thou knave., Or thou ichor e^ for digestion I had I ever A pull at this same poor sport men run mad for. But like a cur I was fain to shew my teeth first, A nd almost worry her ? and did Heaven forgive me. And take this serpent from me, and am I Keeping tame devils now again ? ]My heart aches :
' venture, it's ] " We should surely read " w/i^wre it — ". Mason. There
seems to be some omission here.
SCENE III.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 163
Something I must do speedily : I '11 die,
If I can handsomely, for that 's the way
To make a rascal of her : I am sick,
And I '11 go very near it, but I '11 perish. [Exit.
SCENE III.?-' — A room in the house of Petroxius.
Filter LiviA, Bianca, Tranio, eaid Rowland.
Livia. Then I must be content, sir, with my fortune.
Hotel. And T with mine.
Livia, I did not think a look, Or a poor word or two, could have displanted Such a fix'd constancy, and for your end too.
Roivl Come, come, I know your courses. There 's youi- gewgaws,
Your rings, and bracelets, and the purse you gave me,
The money 's spent in entertaining you At plays and cherry-gardens.
Livia. There 's your chain too : But, if you 'U give me leave, I '11 wear the hair still ; I would yet remember you. »
Bianca. Give him his love, wench ; The young man has employment for 't.
Tra. Fie, Rowland !
Roicl. You cannot fie me out a hundred '' pound With this poor plot. — Yet, let me ne'er see day more. If something do not struggle strangely in me ! {^Aside.
Bianca. Young man, let me talk with you.
Hotel. Well, young woman ?
Bianca. This was your mistress once.
Rotd. Yes.
Bianca. Are you honest ? I see you are young and handsome.
K Scene iii] " This scene probably suggested a similar one in Sir Jolin Van- brugli's comedy of The Mistake, an extract from which is still acted under the title of Lovers' Quarrels. In one of Calderon's comedies a similar scene occurs ; but the resemblance of it to that of our author must have been purely accidental." Weber.
•> out a hundred] Silently altered by SjTnpson to "out of « hundred" : but the old text has the same meaning.
M 2
164 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act hi
Rowl. I am honest.
Bianca. AVhy, that ^s well said : — and there 's no doubt your judgment Is good enough and strong enough to tell you AVho are your foes and friends : why did you leave her ?
Roiol. She made a puppy of me.
Bianca. Be that granted : She must do so sometimes and oftentimes ; Love were too serious else.
Roiol. A witty woman I
Bianca. Had you lovM me
Roivl. I would I had !
Bianca. And dearly, And I had lov'd you so — you may love worse, sir ; But that is not material.
Rowl. I shall lose. \^Aside.
Bianca. Some time or other, for variety, I should have call'd you fool, or boy, or bid you Play with the pages ; but have lov'd you still, Out of all question, and extremely too : You are a man made to be lov'd.
Roiol. This woman Either abuses me, or loves me deadly. ^Aside.
Bianca. I '11 tell you one thing ; if I were to choose A husband to mine own mind, I should think One of your mother's making w^ould content me ; For, o' my conscience, she makes good ones.
Rowl. Lady, I '11 leave you to your commendations. — I am in again : the devil take their tongues ! [Aside.
Bianca. You shall not go.
Roivl. I will. — Yet thus far, Livia ; Your sorrow may induce me to forgive you, But never love again. — If I stay longer, I have lost two hundred pound. [Aside.
Livia. Good sir, but thus much
T7'a. Turn, if thou be'st a man.
Livia. But one kiss of you. One parting kiss, and I am gone too.
Rowl. Come. —
SCENE IV.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 165
I shall kiss fifty pound away at this clap. —
[jlside, and then kisses her. We '11 have one more, and then farewell.
Livia. Farewell.
Bianca. AVell, go thy ways ! thou bear'st a kind heart with thee.
Tra. H 'as made a stand.
Bianca. A noble, brave young fellow, Worthy a wench indeed !
BoxcJ. I will — I will not. [Exit.
Tra. He 's gone ; but shot again. Play you but your part, And I will keep my promise ; forty angels '' In fair gold, lady (wipe your eyes), he 's yours, If I have any wit.
Livia. I '11 pay the forfeit.
Biaiica. Come, then ; let's see your sister, how she fares now, After her skirmish : and be sure Moroso Be kept in good hand ; then all's perfect, Livia. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — A hall in the house of Petruchio.
Enter Jaques and Pedro.
Pedro. Oh, Jaques, Jaques, what becomes of us ? Oh, my sweet master !
Jaques. Run for a physician. And a whole peck of 'pothecaries, Pedro ; He loill die, diddle, diddle, die\ if they come not Quickly ; and bring all people that are skilful In lungs and livers ; raise the neighbours, And all the aquavitae-bottles extant ; And, oh, the parson, Pedro, oh, the parson, A little of his comfort, never so little ! Twenty to one you find him at the Bush ; There 's the best ale.
Pedro. I fly. [Exit.
^ angels] Gold coins, worth about 10j>-. eucli.
' lie will die, diddle, diddle, die] " These words are i)robably the ridiculous burden of some ballad." Weber.
16G THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act hi.
Enter Maria and Servants.
Maria. Out with the trunks, ho ! Why are you idle ? Sirrah, up to the chamber, And take the hangings down, and see the Hnen Pack\l up, and sent away within this half-hour. What, are the carts come yet ? Some honest body Help down the chests of plate, and some the wardrobe ; Alas, we are undone else !
Jaques. Pray, forsooth, And I beseech you, tell me, is he dead yet ?
Maria. No, but is drawing on. — Out with the armour !
Jaques. Then I '11 go see him.
Maria. Thou art undone, then, fellow ; No man that has been near him come near me !
Enter Sophocles and Petronius. Sopli. Why, how now, lady ! what means this ? Petron. Now, daughter ! How does my son I
Maria. Save all you can, for Heaven-sake !
Enter Livia, Bianca, and Tranio.
Livia. Be of good comfort, sister.
Maria. Oh, my casket !
Petron. How does thy husband, woman ?
Maria. Get you gone, If you mean to save your lives : the sickness —
Petron. Stand further off, I prithee.
Maria. Is i' th' house, sir : my husband has it now ; Alas, he is infected, and raves extremely ! Give me some counsel, friends.
Bianca. Why, lock the doors up. And send him in a woman to attend him.
Maria. I have bespoke two women, and the city Hath sent a watch by this time' : meat nor money He shall not want, nor prayers.
J the city
Ilalh sent a watch by this time] " Whenever the plague was known to rage in a liouse, the city-officers p'aced a guard before the door to [)rcvent any one entering it during a period of forty days." Webku.
scESEiv.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 167
Pefron. How long is 't Since it first took him ;
Maria. But within this three hours. I am frighted from mv wits — Oh, here 's the watch.
Enter the T\'atch. PraV; do your office ; lock the doors up, friends : And patience be his angel !
Tra. This comes unlook'd for.
Maria. I 'll to the lodge : some that are kind, and love me, I know will visit me.
Petru. [within] Do you hear, my masters? Ho, you that lock the doors up !
Petron. 'Tis his voice.
Tra. Hold, and let's hear him.
Petru. \icithin] ^^'ill ye starve me here I Am I a traitor, or an heretic ? Or am I grown infectious ?
Petron. Pray, sir, pray !
Petru. [icitldii] I am as well as you are, goodman puppy.
Maria. Pray, have patience ; You shall want nothing, sir.
Petru. [rcithiii] I want a cudgel, And thee, thou wickedness !
Petron. He speaks well enough.
Maria. YV ad ever a strong heart, sir.
Petru. [icithin'] Will ye hear me ; First, be pleas'd To think I know ye all, and can distinguish Every man's several voice : you that spoke first, I know ray father-in-law ; the other, Tranio ; And 1 heard Sophocles; the last, pray, mark me. Is my damn'd wife Maria. If any man misdoubt me for infected, There is mine arm, let any man look on 't.
iTIirusts his arm out of a window.
Enter Doctor and Apotliecary. Doctor. Save ye, gentlemen ! Petron. Oil, welcome, doctor !
168 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act hi.
You come in happy time. Pray, your opinion ; What think you of his pulse ?
Doctor. It beats with busiest, {^Feels PETRUcHio's/jj^Zse.
And shews a general inflammation, Which is the symptom of a pestilent fever. Take twenty ounces from him.
Petru. [xcithbi] Take a fool ! Take an ounce from mine arm, and, doctor Deuce-ace ''', I '11 make a close-stool of your velvet costard ^ ! — [Pox], gentlemen, do ye make a May-game 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 quickly, Or, as I am a man, I'll beat the walls down, And the first thing I light upon shall pay for 't.
\_Exeunt Doctor and Apothecary.
Fetron. Nay, we '11 go with you, doctor.
Maria. 'Tis the safest ; I saw the tokens, sir.
Petron. Then there is but one way.
Petru. \ioithhi\ Will it please you open 1
Tra. His fit grows stronger still.
Maria. Let 's, save oui'selves, sir ; He 's past all worldly cure.
Petron. Friends, do your office ; And what he wants, if money, love, or labour, Or any way, may win it, let him have it : Farewell, and pray, my honest friends.
[^Exeunt all except the Watch.
Petru. [icitliin'] Why, rascals ! Friends ! gentlemen ! thou beastly wife ! Jaques ! None hear me ? who['s] at the door there ?
'' doctor Deuce-ace'] A term of contempt, very old, and not unf'rcquently met with :
" Thys docter Deuyas comniensjd in a cart," &c. Skelton's verses Agaynste a comely coystroivne, &c. Works, vol. i. 17.ed. Dyce. " What, a graue Doctor, a base John Doleta the Almanack-maker, Doctor Deuse-ace and Doctor Merry-man I ' ' Nash's Ilaue with you to Saffron- Walden, 1596, sig. L 3.
' your velvet costard] " ' Costard,' i. c. head. The term ' velvet ' alludes to the caps worn by physicians. In the next line, the folios have only a bar for the word ' Po.r '." Weber.
SCENE IV.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 169
First Watch. Think, I pray, sir. Whither you are going, and prepare yourself.
Sec. Watch. These idle thoughts disturb you : the good gentlewoman, Your wife, has taken care you shall want nothing.
Petru. \withbi\ Shall I come out in quiet ? answer me ; Or shall I charge a fowling-piece, and make Mine own way I two of ye I cannot miss, If I miss three. Ye come here to assault me ! I am as excellent well, I thank Heaven for 'i, And have as good a stomach at this instant
Sec. Watch. That 's an ill sign.
First Watch. He draws on ; he 's a dead man.
Petru. \ioithiii\ And sleep as soundly — will ye look upon me?
First Watch. Do you want pen and ink? while you have sense, sir, Settle your state"".
Petru. \iDithij{\ Sirs, I am well as you are. Or any rascal living.
Sec. Watch. Would you were, sir !
Petru. \withhi] Look to yourselves, and, if you love your lives, Open the door, and fly me, for I shoot else ; [By Heaven,] " I '11 shoot, and presently, chain-bullets. And under four I will not kill !
First Watch. Let ""s quit him ; It may be it is trick ; he 's dangerous.
Sec. Watch. The devil take the hinmost", I cry !
\^Exeunt Watch runninrf.
Petru. [loithhi] Have among ye ! The door shall open too ; I '11 have a fair shoot.
\^Bursts the door open, and enters icith afoiclimj-piece. Are ye all gone ? tricks in my old days, crackers
'" «/a<e] " i. e. estate." Wicder.
" By Heaven] A break liere in Itcitli the folios.
" hinmost] Silently altered by Syiupsoa to "hindmost"; and so his suc- cessoi's. In this line too Sympson chose to print " de'l ", and the Editoi-s of 1778 "de'il."
170 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iii.
Put now upon me ? and by Lady Green- Sleeves? ?
Am I grown so tame after all my triumphs ?
But that I should be thought mad, if I raiFd
As much as they deserve against these women,
I would now rip up, from the primitive cuckold,
All their arch-villanies, 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 thinks, the noblest,
What has he then ? and I '11 speak modestly ;
He has a quartern-ague, that shall shake
All his estate to nothing, never cur'd,
Nor never dying ; h 'as a ship to venture
His fame and credit in, which if he man not
With more continual labour than a galley,
To make her tith% either she grows a tumbrel"",
Not worth the cloth she wears, or springs more leaks
Than all the fame of his posterity
Can ever stop again. Out on 'em, hedgehogs !
He that shall touch 'em has a thousand thorns*
Runs through his fingers. If I were unmarried,
I would do any thing below repentance.
Any base dunghill slavery ; be a hangman.
Ere 1 would be a husband. Oh, the thousand,
Thousand, ten thousand ways they have to kill us !
Some fall with too much stringing of the fiddles.
p Lady Green-Sleeves'] An allusion to a very popular ballad so called : see note, vol. vi. 55.
■J tiih'] i. e. tight (as before, vol. vi. 65 ) ' tumbrel] See note, p. 156. ' Can ever stop again. Out on 'em, hedgehogs ! He thai shall touch 'em has a thousand thorns, &c.] Both the folios have, " Can ever stop againe : I could raile twenty dales ; Out on 'em hedije-hogs,
He that shal touch 'em, has a thousand thorns,'' &c. ; and so Sympson. — The Editors of 1778 properly threw out " I could rail twenty days", as being part of a line lower down ; and so Weber, who remarks that " the intervening lines were probably omitted in the repi-esentation, and crossed in the prompter's book, and the words in question left as a direction to pass on to where they occur in their place ".
SCENE I.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 171
And those are fools; some, that they are not suffer'd,
And those are maudhn lovers ; some, like scorpions,
They poison with their tails, and those are martyrs ;
Some die 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
They are buried in old walls, with their heels upward.
I could rail twenty days together now !
I 'II seek 'em out ; and, if I have not reason,
And very sensible, why this was done,
I '11 go a-birding yet, and some shall smart for 't. [Exit
ACT IV. SCENE I. — A room in the house o/'Petronius,
Enter Moroso and Petronics.
Mor. That I do love her is without all question. And most extremely, dearly, most exactly ; And that I would even now, this present Monday, Before all others, maids, wives, women, widows, Of what degree or calling, marry her, As certain too ; but to be made a whim-wham, A jib-crack, and a gentleman o*" the first house f, For all my kindness to her
Petron. How you take it ! Thou get a wench? thou get a dozen night-caps ! Wouldst have her come and lick thee like a calf, And blow thy nose, and buss thee ?
Mor. Not so, neither.
Petron. What wouldst thou have her do I
Mor. Do as she should do ;
' a gentleman o' the first house] Sec note, p. IC.
172 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE, [act iv.
Put on a clean smock, and to church, and marry,
And then to bed a' God's name ! this is fair play,
And keeps the king's peace. Let her leave her bobs"
(I have had too many of them) and her quillets ^' ;
She is as nimble that way as an eel ;
But in the way she ought, to me especially,
A sow of lead ^' is swifter.
Petron. Quote your griefs down"^.
Mor. Give fair^ quarter. I am old and crazy. And subject to much fumbling, I confess it ; Yet something I would have that 's warm, to hatch me : But understand me, I would have it so, I buy not more repentance in the bargain Than the ware 's worth I have. If you allow me Worthy your son-in-law and your allowance, Do it a way of credit ; let me shew so. And not be troubled in my visitations With blows, and bitterness, and downright railings, As if we were to couple like two cats With clawing and loud clamour.
Petron. Thou fond^ man, Hast thou forgot the ballad, Crabbed age^ ? Can May and January'' match together. And never a storm between 'em ? Say she abuse thee, Put case she do.
Mor. Well?
Petron. Nay, believe she does.
Mor. I do believe she does.
" bobs'] i. e. sneering jests.
" quillets'] i. e. sly tricks, or tui*ns, in argument or excuse : see Nares's Gloss, in V.
"" A sow of lead'] " A piece of lead in an oblong shape is so called." Weber.
^ Quote your griefs doivn] " i. e. note tliem, enumel-ate them." Weber. See note, vol. i. 49.
y Give fair] Silently altered by Sympson to " Give me fair."
^ fond] i. e. foolish.
" the ballad, Crabbed age] The well-known lines by Shakespeai'e, contained in his Passionate Pilgrim.
^ May and January] " Obviously refer to The Merchant's Tale of Chaucer.'' Weber.
^cE.NEi.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 173
Petron. And devilishly : Art thou a ^Yhit the worse ?
Mo7\ That 's not the matter ; I know, being old, 'tis fit I am abus'd ; I know 'tis handsome, and 1 know moreover I am to love her for 't.
Petron. Now you come to me.
Mor, Nay, more than this ; I find too, and find certain, What gold I have, pearl, bracelets, rings, or ouches S Or what she can desire, gowns, petticoats, Waistcoats '^, enbroiderM stockings, scarfs, cawls, feathers, HatSj five-pound garters, muffs, masks, ruffs, and ribands, T am to give her for 't.
Petron. 'Tis right ; you are so.
Mor. But when I have done all this, and think it duty. Is 't requisite another bore my nostrils ? Riddle me that.
Petron. Go, get you gone, and dream She 's thine within these two days, for she is so ; The boy 's beside the saddle : get warm broths, And feed apace ; think not of worldly business. It cools the blood ; leave off" your tricks, they are hateful, And mere forerunners of the ancient measures ; Contrive your beard o' the top cut, like Verdugo's^, It shews you would be wise ; and burn your nightcap. It looks like half a winding-sheet, and urges
"= ouches'^ " Cotgrave explains monilles, ' necklaces, tablets, brouches, or ouches; any such ornaments for the neck '." Weber. Concerning this word, whose etymology and primary signification are uncertain, see TjTwhitt's Gloss. to Chaucer's Cant. Tales (in v. Nouches) and Richardson's Diet.
<i Waistcoats'] See note, p. 127.
* Verdugo's] In The Alchemist, act iii. sc. 2, we find,
" His great Verdugoship has not a jot of language"; on which GifTord remarks ; " Verdugo is the name of a noble Spanish family, and was probably that of some individual well known to the writcre of Jonson's time. He is mentioned by Fletcher; ' Contrive your beard '," <Scc. Jonson's Works, iv. lOi. Nares {Gloss, in v.) says that, as verdugo means in Spanish an executioner or a severe stroke, " Jonson's term of Verdiujoship must be construed hangmanship, instead of being referred to any noble family of Sjiain": and in the present passage of Fletcher he would explain " Verdugo's" — hangman's.
ill
■■II
174
THE WOMAN'S PRIZE.
[act IV.
From a young wench nothing but cold repentance ; You may eat onions, so you '11 not be lavish.
Mor. I am glad of that.
Petron. They purge the blood and quicken ; But, after ""em, conceive me, sweep your mouth '^, And, where there wants a tooth, stick in a clove.
Mor. Shall I hope once again ? say 't.
Petron. You shall, sir ; And you shall have your hope.
Mor. Why, there 's a match, then.
Enter Bianca and Tranio.
Bianca. You shall not find me wanting : get you gone ; Here 's the old man ; he '11 think you are plotting else Something against his new son. \_Exit Tranio.
Mor. Fare you well, sir. [^Exit.
Bianca [sings]. An every buck had his doe, And every cuckold a bell at his toe, Oh, what sport should we have then, then, boys, then^, Oh, what sport should we have then !
Petron. This is the spirit that inspires 'em all.
Bianca. Give you good even.
Pet7'on. A word with you, sweet lady.
Bianca. I am very hasty, sir.
Petron. So you were ever.
Bianca. Well, what 's your will I
Petron. Was not your skilful hand In this last stratagem ? were not your mischiefs Eking the matter on ?
Bianca. In 's shutting up ? Is that it ? ,
Petron. Yes.
Bianca. I '11 tell you.
Petron. Do.
' sweep your mouth'^ " i. e. wash it. The modern editors without any notice read ' sweet your mouth '." Weber.
8 have then, then, boijs, Iheri] Silently altered by Sympson to " have then, (joys, then"; and so his successors.
fiOoJ !
Ito;
And, like ii ■ »
OnemadDw
Htoouri
Forsu^!'' ■■■
«¥ ' i* '^ A
SCENE I.]
THE WOMAN'S PRIZE.
175
Bianca. And truly. Good old man, I do grieve exceeding much, I fear too much
Petron. I am sorry for your heaviness. Belike you can repent, then ?
Bianca. There you are wide too : — Not that the thing was done (conceive me rightly) Does any way molest me.
Petron. What, then, lady I
Bianca. But that I was not in it, there 's my sorrow. There ; now you understand me ; for, I '11 tell you, It was so sound a piece, and so well carried, And, if you mark the way, so handsomely. Of such a height, and excellence, and art, I have not known a braver ; for, conceive mo, When the gross fool her husband would be sick —
Petron. Pray, stay —
Bianca. Nay, good, your patience : — and no sense for'r, Then stept your daughter in
Petron. By your appointment.
Bianca. 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 ; wliicli was rare. And, to our weak beliefs, a wonder.
Petron. Hang you ! For surely, if your husband look not to you, I know what will.
Bianca. I humbly thank your worship ; And so, I take my leave.
Petron. You have a hand I hear too
Bianca. I have two, sir.
Petron. In my young daughter's business.
Bianca. You will find there A fitter hand than mine to reach her frets, And play down-diddle to her.
Petron. I shall watch you.
Bianca. Do.
Petron. And I shall have justice.
' \
Hi
174 THE WOxMAN'S PRIZE. [act iv.
From a young wench nothing but cold repentance ; You may eat onions, so you '11 not be lavish.
Mor. I am glad of that.
Petron. They purge the blood and qu'cken ; But, after 'em, conceive me, sweep your mouth '^, And, where there wants a tooth, stick in a clove.
Mor. Shall I hope once again ? say ""t.
Petron. You shall, sir ; And you shall have your hope.
Mor. Why, there 's a match, then.
Enter Bianca and Tranio.
Bianca. You shall not find me wanting : get you gone ; Here 's the old man ; he '11 think you are plotting else Something against his new son. \^Exit Tranio.
Mor. Fare you well, sir. [^Exit.
Bianca [5zn_^s].
An every buck had his doe,
And every cuckold a bell at his toe,
Oh, what sport should we have then, then, boys, thene,
Oh, what sport should we have then !
Petron. This is the spirit that inspires 'em all.
Bianca. Give you good even.
Petron. A word with you, sweet lady.
Bianca. I am very hasty, sir.
Petron. So you were ever.
Bianca. Well, what 's your will ?
Petron. Was not your skilful hand In this last stratagem ? were not your mischiefs Eking the matter on ?
Bianca. In's shutting up ? Is that it ? ,
Petron. Yes.
Bianca. I '11 tell you.
Petron. Do.
' sweep your mouth] " i. e. wash it. The modern editors without any notice read * sweet your mouth '." VI'eber.
B have then, then, boys, then] Silently altered by Sympson to " have then, boys, then"; and so his successors.
SCENE I.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. l/o
Bianca. And truly. Good old man, I do grieve exceeding much, I fear too much
Petron. I am sorry for your heaviness. Belike you can repent, then ;
Bianca. There you are wide too : — Not that the thing was done (conceiv'e me rightly) Does any way molest me.
Petron. What, then, lady ?
Bianca. But that I was not in it, there 's my sorrow, There ; now you understand me ; for, I '11 tell you, It was so sound a piece, and so well carried, And, if you mark the way, so handsomely. Of such a height, and excellence, and art, I have not known a braver ; for, conceive me, When the gross fool her husband would be sick —
Petron. Pray, stay —
Bianca. Nay, good, your patience : — and no sense for't, Then stept your daughter in
Petron. By your appointment.
Bianca. 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.
Petron. Hang you ! For surely, if your husband look not to you, I know what will.
Bianca. I humbly thank your worship ; And so, I take my leave.
Petron. You have a hand I hear too
Bianca. I have two, sir.
Petron. In ray young daughter's business.
Bianca. You will find there A fitter hand than mine to reach her frets, And play down-diddle to her.
Petron. I shall watch you.
Bianca. Do.
Petron. And I shall have justice.
176 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iv.
Bianca. Where l Petron. That 's all one ; I shall be with you at a turn henceforward.
Bianca. Get you a posset too ^ ; and so, good even, sir.
\^Exeunt severally.
SCENE II. — A room in the house o/'Petruchio.
Enter Petruchio, Jaques, and Pedro.
Jaques. And, as I told your worship, all the hangings. Brass, pewter, plate, even to the very looking-glasses.
Pedro. And that that hung for our defence, the armour. And the March-beer was going too : oh, Jaques, What a sad sight was that !
Jaques. Even the two rundlets, The two that was our hope, of rauscadel, (Better ne'er tongue tript over,) those two cannons To batter brawn withal at Christmas, sir, Even those two lovely twins, the enemy Had almost cut off clean.
Petru. Go trim the house up, And put the things in order as they were : I shall find time for all this. [Exeunt Jaques and Pedro.
Could I find her But constant any way, I had done my business : 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'' ; But while she shews all these, and all their losses', A kind of linsey-wolsey mingled mischief Not to be guess'd at, and whether true or borrow'd Not certain neither — what a hap had I, And what a tidy fortune, when my fate Flung me upon this bear-whelp ! Here she comes.
K too']^ Sympson silently printed " do " ; and so the Editors of 1778. '' rein her] Weber printed " reign hi?r " ', i. e., he says, " govern her " ! ! ! ' while she sheivs all these, and all their losses] " i. e. while she shews all these bad qualities, aud at the same time the want of thera all." Mason.
SCENE II.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 177
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 : 1 11 mark her. \_Retlres.
Enter Maria.
Maria. Not let his wife come near him in his sickness ! Not come to comfort him ! she that all laws Of Heaven and nations have ordain'd his second, Is she refus'd ? and two old pai'adoxes, Pieces of five and fifty, without faith, Clapt in upon him I Has a little pet. That all young wives must follow necessary, Having their maidenheads
Petru. This is an axiom I never heard before. ^Aside.
Maria. Or say rebellion, If we durst be so foul, (which two fair words, Alas, win us from in an hour, an instant. We are so easy ! ) make him so forgetful Both of his reason, honesty, and credit, As to deny his wife a visitation ? His wife, that, though she was a little foolish, Lov'd him, — oh, Heaven, forgive her for 't ! — nay, doted, Nay, had run mad, had she not married him I
Petru. Though I do know this falser than the devil, I cannot choose but love it. [Aside.
Maria. What do I know But those that came to keep him might have kill'd him ? In what a case had I been then ! I dare not Believe him such a base dcboshVl companion', That one refusal of a tender maid Would make him feign this sickness out of need. And take a keeper to him of fourscore To play at billiards ; one that mew\l ^ content And all her teeth together. Not come near him !
J debosh'd companionl " i. e. debauched fellow." WrnER. •< tnetv\l] i. e. lost, parted with. To mew means properly — to moult : it has frequently occurred before ; see, for instance, notes, vol. iv. 153, vol. vi. 358. VOL. VII. N
178 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iv.
Petru. This woman would have made a most rare Jesuit ; She can prevaricate on any thing : There was not to be thought a way to save her, In all imagination, beside this. [Aside.
Maria. His unkind dealing, which was worst of all, In sending, who knows whither, all the plate And all the household-stuff, had I not cross'd it, By a great providence, and my friends' assistance. Which he will thank me one day for' — Alas, I could have watch'd as well as they, have servM him In any use better and willinger ! The law commands me to do it, love commands me. And my own duty charges me.
Petru. Heaven bless me ! And, now I have said my prayers, I 'II go to her. —
[Aside, and then comes forward. Are you a wife for any man?
Maria. For you, sir. If I were worse, I were better. That you are well, At least that you appear so, I thank Heaven ; Long may it hold ! and that you are here, I am glad too : But that you have abus'd me wretchedly, And such a way that shames the name of husband. Such a malicious mangy way, so mingled — Never look strangely on me ; I dare tell you — With breach of honesty, care, kindness, manner? —
Petru. Holla ! you kick too fast.
Maria. Was I a stranger ? Or had I vow'd perdition to your person I 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 worshipful I lied not, My grandsire was a knight
Petru. O' the shire ?
Maria. A soldier,
' Which he will thank me one day for'\ Weber chose to print " Which he will one day thank me for ".
ti
SCENE II.]
THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 179
^\' hich none of all thy family e'er heard of, But one conductor of thy name, a grazier That ran away with pay : — or am I grown, Because I have been a little peevish to you, Only to try your temper, such a dog -leech, I could not be admitted to your presence I —
Petru. 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
Pet)'u. Now hear me ; For I will stay no longer.
Maria. This you shall : However you shall think to flatter me For this offence (which no submission Can ever mediate for, you '11 find it so), Whatever you shall do by intercession, What you can offer, what your land can purchase. What all your friends or family" can win. Shall be but this, not to forswear your knowledge, But ever to forbear it. Now your will, sir.
Petru. Thou art the subtlest woman I think living, I am sure the lewdest'^ Now be still, and mark me. Were I but any way addicted to the devil, I should now think I had met a playfellow To profit by, and that way the most learned That ever taught to murmur. Tell me, thou, Thou most poor, paltry, spiteful whore — Do you cry I I ^11 make you roar, before I leave.
Maria. Your pleasure.
Petru. Was it not sin enough, thou fruiterer, Full of the fall thou eat'st, thou devil's broker, Thou seminary of all sedition.
Thou sword of vengeance with a thread hung o'er us, Was it not sin enough, and wickedness In full abundance, was it not vexation At all points, cap-a-pc — nay, I shall pinch you —
■" Harry-groats'\ See note, vol. iii. 21. " family^ Both the folios " families" ; and so Weber. ° lewdest] " i. e. the most wicked." Wkhkr.
X 2
180 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iv.
Thus like a rotten rascal to abuse
The name of Heaven, the tie of marriage,
The honour of thy friends, the expectation
Of all that thought thee virtuous, with rebellion,
Childish and base rebellion ? but continuing,
After forgiveness too, and worse, your mischief?
And against him, setting the hope of Heaven by,
And the dear reservation of his honour.
Nothing above ground could have won to hate thee ?
Well, go thy ways !
Maria. Yes.
Petru. You shall hear me out first : What punishment mayst thou deserve, thou thing. Thou idle thing of nothing, thou pulFd primrose, That two hours after art a weed and withered , 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 had the plague, and no man must come near me ! I must be shut up, and my substance bezzled i', And an old woman watch me !
Maria. Well, sir, well; You may well glory in 't.
Petru. And, when it comes to opening, 'tis my plot, I must undo myself, forsooth ! Dost hear me ? If I should beat thee now, as much may be, Dost thou not well deserve it ? o' thy conscience, Dost thou not cry " Come beat me " ?
Maria. I defy you ! And, my last loving tears, farewell ! The first stroke, The very first you give me, if you dare strike, (Try me, and you shall find it so,) for ever. Never to be recall'd, (I know you love me, Mad till you have enjoyM me,) I do turn Utterly from you ; and what man I meet first, That has but spirit to deserve a favour, Let him bear any shape, the worse the better, Shall kill you, and enjoy me. What I have said
I' bezzled] See note, vol. ii. 149.
SCENE III,] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 181
About your foolish sickness, ere you have me
As you would have me, you 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 fairies, That can again unlove me, I am made. \^Exit.
SCENE III. — A garden attached to the house of Bianca.
Enter Bianca and Tranio.
Tra. Mistress'', you must do it.
Bianca. Are the writings Ready I told you of I
Tra. Yes, they are ready ; But to what use I know not.
Bianca. You 're an ass ; You must have all things construM.
Tra. Yes, and pierc'd too. Or 1 find little pleasure.
Bianca. Now you are knavish ; Go to ! Fetch Rowland hither presently ; Your twenty pound lies bleeding else ; she is married Within these twelve hours, if we cross it not : And see the papers of one size.
Tra. I have you.
Bianca. And for disposing of 'em
Tra. If I fail you, Now I have found the way, use martial law, And cut my head off with a hand-saw.
Bianca. Well, sir : Petronius and Moroso I '11 see sent for : About your business ; go.
" Stiyiny my prayers backward] See note, ji. lllfj. '' Mini less] iv trisyllable lierc, as frequently before.
182 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iv.
Tra. I am gone. \^Exit.
Bianca. Ho, Livia !
Enter Livia. Livia. Who 's that I
Bianca. A friend of yours. Lord, how you look now. As if you had lost a carrack'' !
Livia. 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 ^ 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. Even as I fear the gallows.
Bianca. Keep thee there still : And you love Rowland? say.
Livia. If I say not, I am sure I lie.
Bianca. What wouldst thou give that woman, In spite of all his anger, and thy fear. And all thy father"'s policy, that could Clap ye within these two nights quietly Into a bed together I
Livia. How ?
Bianca. Why, fairly. At half-sword, man and wife. Now the red blood comes ; Ay, marry, now the matter's chang'd.
Livia. Bianca, Methinks you should not mock me.
Bianca. Mock a pudding ! I speak good honest English, and good meaning.
Livia. I should not be ungrateful to that woman.
Bianca. I know thou wouldst not. Follow but my counsel. And, if thou hast him not, despite of fortune, Let me never know a good night more. You must Be very sick o' th' instant.
Livia. Well, what follows ?
1 a carrack] i. e. a large ship of burden, a galleon. ' all shall split for 7] See note, vol. iii. 43.
SCENE IV.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 183
BianccL And in that sickness send for all your friends, Your father, and your fever, old Moroso ; And Rowland shall be there too.
Livia. What of these ?
Bianca. Do you not twitter yet ? Of this shall follow That Avhich shall make thy heart leap, and thy lips Venture as many kisses as the merchants Do dollars to the East-Indies. You shall know all : But first walk in, and practise ; pray, be sick.
Livia. I do believe you, and I am sick.
Bianca. Do : To bed, then; come. I'll send away your servants Post for your fool and father : and good fortune. As we mean honesty % now strike an up-shot ! \_Exeunt.
SCENE l\.— A street.
Enter Tuanio and Roavland.
Tra. Nay, on my conscience, I have lost my money But that 's all one : I '11 never more persuade you ; I see you are resolute, and I commend you.
Roiol. But did she send for me ?
Tra. You dare believe me 1
Bold. I cannot tell ; you have your ways for profit AllowM you, Tranio, as well as I Have to avoid 'em fear.
Tra. No, on my word, sir, I deal directly with you.
Enter Servant hastilt/.
Bowl. How now, fellow ! Whither post you so fast ?
Serv. Oh, sir, my master ! Pray, did you see my master I
Bowl. Why your master ?
Serv. Sir, his jewel
Bold With the gilded button ?
» honesly] Silently altered by Sympson to " honestly."
184 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. Iact iv.
Serv. My pretty mistress Livia
Rowl What of her ?
Serv. Is fain sick o"* the sudden
Roivl. How, o' the sullens !
Serv. O' the sudden, sir, I say ; very sick.
Roiol. It seems she hath got the tooth-ache with raw apples.
Serv. It seems you have got the head-ache : fare you well, sir : You did not see my master ?
Rowl. Who told you so ?
Tra. No, no ; he did not see hira.
Roiol. Farewell, blue-bottle ^ [^Exit Servant.
What should her sickness be 1
Tra. For you, it may be.
Rowl. Yes, when my brains are out, I may believe it ; Never before, I am sure. Yet I may see her ; 'Twill be a point of honesty.
Tra. It will so.
Roid. It may be not too. You would fain be fingering This old sin-offering of two hundred, Tranio : How daintily and cunningly you drive me Up like a deer to the toil ! yet I may leap it ; And what's the woodman^, then I
Tra. A loser by you. Speak, will you go or not ? to me 'tis equal.
Rowl. Come ; what goes less * 'I '
Tra, Nay, not a penny, Rowland.
Rowl. Shall I have liberty of conscience. Which, by interpretation, is ten kisses ? *
Hang me, if I affect " her ! yet, it may be, This whoreson manners will require a struggling Of two and twenty, or, by'r lady, thirty.
Tra. By 'r lady, I '11 require my wager, then ;
' blue-bottle'] " In allusion to the dress of servants, who in ancient times were generally habited in blue," &c. Weukr. ' woodman] i. e. forester, hunter. ' what goes less] See note, p. 147. " affect] i. e. love. Wkbeb.
SCENE v.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 185
For, if you kiss so often, and no kindness,
I have lost my speculation : I '11 allow yon
lioicl. Speak like a gamester now.
Tra. It may be, two.
Rflwl Under a dozen, Tranio, there ^s no setting : You shall have forty shillings, wink at small faults. Say I take twenty ; come, by all that 's honest, I do it but to vex her.
Tra. I '11 no by-blows. If you can love her, do ; if you can hate her, Or any else that loves you
Roiol. Prithee, Tranio
Tra. Why, farewell, twenty pound ! 'twill not undo me : You have my resolution.
Roiol. And your money : Which, since you are so stubborn, if I forfeit. Make me a Jack-o'-Lent ^, and break my shins For untagg'd points '" and counters ! I '11 go with you ; But, if thou gett'st a penny by the bargain — A parting kiss is lawful ?
Tra. I allow it.
Rowl. Knock out my brains with apples. Yet a bargain i
Tra. I tell you, I '11 no bargains ; win and wear it.
Rowl. Thou art the strangest fellow !
Tra. That 's all one.
Rowl. Along, then ! Twenty pound more, if thou dar'st, 1 give her not a good word ?
Tra. Not a penny. {Exeunt.
SCENE V. — A room in the house of Petruchio.
Enter Petruchio, Jaques, and Pedro.
Petru. Prithee, entreat her come ; I will not trouble her
Above a word or two. [E.vit Pedro.
Ere I endure
* a Jacfi-o'-Lenl] Sec note, vol. iii. 100, " points] See note, vol. ii. 197.
186 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iv.
This life, and with a woman, and a vow''d one
To all the mischiefs she can lay upon me,
I '11 go to plough again '', and eat leek-porridge ;
Begging 's a pleasure to 't, not to be number'd :
No, there be other countries, Jaques, for me.
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 I have lost
Either myself or her — I care not whether,
Nor which first —
Jaques. Will your worship hear me ?
Peine. And utterly out-worn the memory Of such a curse as this, none of my nation Shall ever know me more.
Jaques. Out, alas, sir, What a strange way do you run !
Petni. Any way, So I out-run this rascal.
Jaques. Methinks now, If your good worship could but have the patience —
Petru. The patience ! why the patience I
Jaques. Why, I '11 tell you ; Could you but have the patience —
Petru. Well, the patience.
Jaques. To laugh at all she does, or, when she rails, To have a drum beaten o** the top o' th' house, To give the neighbours warning of her 'larum, As I do when my wife rebels
Petru. Thy wife ! Thy wife 's a pigeon to her, a mere slumber ; The dead of night 's not stiller
Jaques. Nor an iron-mill.
Petru. But thy wife is certain
Jaques. That 's false doctrine ; You never read> of a certain woman.
^ againl So the firat folio. — Omitted in the secoud folio. " As it does not appear that he was ever at the plough before, tlie word ' again ' is a nonsensical interpolation." Mason.
•' never 7-ea<l] Sympson silently printed " never jet rea<i ".
i
SCENE V.J THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 187
Petru. Thou know'st her way.
Jaques. I should do, I am sure ; I have ridden it night and day, this twenty year.
Petm. But mine is such a drench of balderdash \ Such a strange carded '' cunningness, the rainbow, When she hangs bent in heaven, sheds not her colours Quicker, and more, than this deceitful woman ^V^eaves in her dyes of wickedness.
Re-enter Pedro.
AVliat says she ?
Pedro. Nay, not a word, sir ; but she pointed to me, As though she meant to follow. Pray, sir, bear it Even as you may : I need not teach your worship The best men have their crosses, we are all mortal
Petru. ^Mlat ails the fellow \
Pedro. And no doubt she may, sir
Petru. What may she \ or what does she I or what is she • Speak and be hang'd !
Pedro. She's mad, sir.
Petru. Heaven continue it !
Pedro. Amen, if 't be his pleasure.
Petru. How mad is she ?
* balderdash'] " Is a vulgar word for a confused medley either of words or thiugs. So in Taylor the Water-Poet's Drink and Welcome ;
' Now and then in beer and balderdash
Her lips she dips, and clean her entrails wash.' "
Webeu. According to the tract just cited (which was printed in 1G37), the liquor called balderdash was beer with a mixture of wine : " Indeede Beere, by a Mixture of Wine, it enjoyes approbation amongst some few (that hardly understand wherefore) ; but then it is no longer Beerc, but hath lost both Name and Nature, and is called Balderdash (an Utopian denomination) ", &c. Sig. b 3.
* carded] " Is used metaphorically for mi.\ed, fi'om the technical term of carding wool," &c. Webeu. Whatever may have been the original significa- tion of the word, it was very frequently used in the sense of mixed by our early writers : such is undoubtedly its meaning in Shakespeare's First Fart of Henry I V., act. iii. sc. 2., —
" carded his state, Mingled his royalty with capering fools ", &c. where Mr. Knight erroneously explains it, and where both he and Mr. Collier adopt, in the second line, the wrong reading, " carpitty fools".
188 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iv.
Pedro. As mad as heart can wish, sir : she has dress'd her- self (Saving your worship's reverence) just i' the cut Of one of those that multiply i' the suburbs '' For single money, and as dirtily : If any speak ^ to her, first she whistles, And then begins her compass with her fingers, And points to what she would have.
Petru. What new way 's this ?
Pedro. There came in master Sophocles
Petru. And what Did master Sophocles, when he came in ? Get my trunks ready, sirrah ; I '11 be gone straight.
Pedro. He 's here to tell you. — She 's horn-mad, Jaques.
Enter Sophocles.
Soph. Call you this a woman I
Petru. Yes, sir, she is a woman.
Sojyii. Sir, I doubt it.
Petru. I had thought you had made experience.
Soph. Yes, I did so, And almost with my life.
Petru. You rid too fast, sir.
Soph. Pray, be*^ not mistaken : by this hand. Your wife 's as chaste and honest as a virgin, For any thing I know : 'tis true, she gave me A ring
Petru. For rutting.
Soph. You are much deceived still : Believe me, I never kiss'd her since ; and now Coming in visitation like a friend, (I think she is mad, sir) suddenly she started, And snatch'd the ring away, and drew her knife out, To what intent I know not.
Petru. Ts this certain ?
^ suburbs] See note, vol. vi. 408.
'^ any speak] Silently altered by Sympson to " any one speak."
•' Pray, be] Silently altered by Sympson to " iVay, sir, ie ".
KE.NEV.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 189
Sopli. As T am here, sir. Petni. I believe you honest ; And, pray, continue so. Soph. She comes.
Enter Maria.
Petru. Now, damsel, What will your beauty do, if I forsake you I [She makes signs. Do you deal by signs and tokens ? As I guess, then, You '11 walk abroad this summer, and catch captains, Or hire a piece of holy ground i' the suburbs. And keep a nest of nuns ?
Soph. Oh, do not stir her ! You see in what a case she is.
Petru. She is dogged. And in a beastly case, I am sure : I Ml make her, If she have any tongue, yet tattle. — Sophocles, Prithee, observe this woman seriously. And eye her well ; and, when thou hast done, but tell me (For thou hast understanding) in what case My sense was, when I chose this thing.
Soph. I '11 tell you, I have seen a sweeter
Petru. An hundred times, cry oysters. There 's a poor beggar-wench about Black-Friars, Runs on her breech, may be an empress to her.
Sojjh. Nay, now you are too bitter.
Petru. Never a whit, sir. — I'll toll thee, woman, for now I have day to see thee. And all my wits about me, and I speak Not out of passion neither (leave your mumping ; I know you're well enough) — now would I give A million but to vex her ! [Aside]— 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 Adam's genealogy may be ended
'' trouble] " i. e. vexation ". Ed. 1778.
190 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iv.
Ere any law find thee ; I took a leprosy,
Nay, worse, the plague, nay, worse yet, a possession,
And had the devil with thee, if not more ^ ;
And yet worse, was a beast, and like a beast
Had my reward, a jade 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 ?
Soj)h. She is not so ill.
Petru. She 's worse than I dare think of; she 's so lewd ^ No court is strong enough to bear her cause ; She hath neither manners, honesty, behaviour, Wifehood, nor womanhood ; nor any mortal Can force me think she had a mother ; no, I do believe her stedfastly and know her To be a woman-wolf by ti'ansmigration ; Her first form was a ferret's under-ground ; She kills the memories of men. — Not yet ? \_Aside.
Soph. Do you think she 's sensible of this t
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 untie, and thus I loose it ; The husband I am to her, thus I sever : My vanity, farewell ! Yet, for you have been So near me as to bear the name of wife, My unquench'd charity shall tell you thus much : Though you deserve it well, you shall not beg ; What I ordain'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 '11 be at also,)
nay, ivorse yet, a possession, And had the devil with thee, if not morc-\ "'A possession' means a being possessed by a devil. ' // not more ' means, if not more devils than one." Mason.
' lewd] i. e. wicked, base.
s poi7it] See note, vol. ii. 197.
PCENEV.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 191
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, I ^11 talk to you • And I forget your bitterness.
Soph. How now, man ?
Pefru. Oh, Pliny, if thou wilt be ever famous, Make but this woman all thy wonders !
Maria. Sure, sir. You have hit upon a happy course, a blessed, And what will make you virtuous.
Pefru. She '11 ship me. \_Aside.
Maria. A way of understanding I long wish'd for ; And now 'tis come, take heed you fly not back, sir : Methinks you look a new man to me now, A man of excellence ; and now I see Some great design set in you. You may think now (And so may most that know me) 'twere my part Weakly to weep your loss, and to resist you ; Nay, hang about your neck, and, like a dotard. Urge ray strong tie upon you : but I love you, And all the world shall know it, beyond woman ; And more prefer the honour of your country, AMiich chiefly you are born for, and may perfect, 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 bring home understanding.
S(yp]i. This were an excellent woman to breed schoolmen.
Maria. For, if the merchant through unknown seas plough '' To get his wealth, then, dear sir, what must you To gather wisdom ? Go, and go alone, Only your noble mind for your companion ; And, if a woman may win credit with you,
•> For, if the merchant through unknown seas plough] Silently altered by Sympson to " For if the merchant plough through unknown seas".
192 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act iv.
Go far, — too far you cannot, still the farther The more experience finds you ; and go sparing, — One meal a-week will serve you, and one suit, Through all your travels ; for you '11 find it certain. The poorer and the baser you appear, The more you look through still.
Petru. Dost hear her ?
Soph. Yes.
Petru. What would this woman do, if she were suffered. Upon a new religion ?
Soph. Make us pagans'. I wonder that she writes not.
Maria. Then^ when time And fulness of occasion have new-made you. And squar'd you from a sot into a signior, Or nearer, from a jade into a courser, Come home an aged man, as did Ulysses, And I, your glad Penelope
Petru. That must have As many lovers as I languages. And what she does with one i' the day, i' the night Undo it with another.
Maria. Much that way, sir ; For in your absence it must be my honour, That that must make me spoken of hereafter, To have temptations, and not little ones, Daily and hourly oiferM me, and strongly. Almost beiiev'd against me, to set off The faith and loyalty of her that loves you.
Petru. What should I do I
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 her'^. She 's the devil ;
' Upon a new religion.
Soph. Make us pagaiis] So the second folio. — The first folio has, " Upon a new adventure. Soph. Make us nothing." j soul] A break here in both the folios. ^ try her] Both the folios "try, sir" (the first without the comma); and so
SCENE V.J THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 193
And now I find it, for she drives me : I must go. — Are my trunks down there, and my horses ready l
[719 Jaques and Pedro.
Maria. Sir, for your house, and, if you please to trust me With that you leave behind
Petru. Bring down the money ! \^To Jaques and Pedko.
Maria. As I am able, and to my poor fortunes, I '11 govern as a widow. I shall long To hear of your well-doing and your profit ; And when I hear not from you once a quarter. Pll wish you in the Indies or Cataia' ; Those are the climes must make you.
Petru. How ""s the wind ? — She'll wish me out o' the 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 ready for you.
Petru. Fare thee well : Thou hast fooPd me out o' the kingdom with a vengeance ; And thou canst fool me in again.
Maria. Not I, sir; I love you better ; take your time and pleasure. I Ml see you hors'd.
Petru. I think thou wouldst see me liangM too, Were I but half as willing.
Maria. Any thing That you think well of, I dare look upon.
Petru. You '11 bear me to the land's end, Sophocles, And other of my friends, I hope ?
Maria. Never doubt, sir ; You cannot want companions for your good. I am sure you '11 kiss me ere I go ; I have business, And stay long here I must not.
Petru. Get thee going !
the modem editors. — I now see that iu vol. v. 202 I ought unhesitatingly to have altered "doubt, «tr" to " doubt /jer", instead of merely proposing the latter reading in a note.
' Calaia'\ "i.e. China." Weber. VOL. VIl. O
194 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. Iact iv.
For, if thou tarriest but another dialogue, I '11 kick thee to thy chamber.
Maria. Fare you well, sir ; And bear yourself, I do beseech you once more, Since you have undertaken doing wisely, Manly and worthily ; 'tis for my credit : And for those flying fames here of your follies, Your gambols, and ill-breeding of your youth, For which I understand you take this travel, (Nothing should make me leave you else,) I '11 deal So like a wife that loves your reputation, And the most large addition of your credit, That those shall die. If you want lemon-waters, Or any thing to take the edge o' the sea off. Pray, speak, and be provided.
Petru. Now the devil. That was your first good master, shower his blessing Upon ye all ! into whose custody
Maria. I do commit your reformation ; And so I leave you to your stilo jiovo^^\ [Exit.
Petru. I will go — yet I will not : — once more, Sophocles, I ^11 put her to the test.
Soph. You had better go.
Petru. I will go, then. Let 's seek my father out, And all my friends, to see me fair aboard : Then, women, if there be a storm at sea Worse than your tongues can make, and waves more broken Than your dissembling faiths are, let me feel Nothing but tempests, till they crack my keel ! [Exeunt.
™ stilo novo'] "When the calendar had been reformed by Gregory XIII., English travellers, who wrote from abroad, usually dated their letters siilo novo; whence it gx-ew into a kind of cant expression." Nares's Gloss, in v.
SCENE I ] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 19i>
ACT V.
SCENE I. — A room in the house o/'Petromus.
Enter Petronius and Bianca.
Bianca. Now whether I deserve that blame you gave mc. Let all the world discern, sir.
Petron. If this motion, 1 mean this fair repentance of my daughter, Spring from your good persuasion, as it seems so, I must confess I have spoke too boldly of you, 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 you might be purchas'd : loving woman ! She heard me, and, I thank her, thought me worthy Observing" in this point. Yet all my counsel And comfort in this case could not so heal her. But that grief got his share too, and she sickcn'd.
Petron. I am sorry she ""s so ill ; yet glad her sickness Has got so good a ground.
Bianca. Here comes Moroso.
Enter Moroso.
Petron. Oh, you are very welcome ! Nov/ you shall know your happiness.
Mor. I am glad on ""t. What makes this lady here?
Bianca. A dish for you, sir, You '11 thank me for hereafter.
Petion. True, Moroso : Go, get you in, and see your mistress.
° Olscrinng'\ i. e. obeying'. O 2
19G THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act v.
Bianca. She is sick, sir ; But you may kiss her whole.
Mor. How !
Bianca. Comfort her.
Mor. Why am I sent for, sir ?
Petron. Will you in and see ?
Bianca. May be, she needs confession.
Mor. By St. Mary, She shall have absolution, then, and penance ; But not above her carriage.
Peiron. Get you in, fool. \_Exit Moroso.
Bianca. Here comes the other too.
Enter Rowland and Tranio.
Petron. Now, Tranio ! — Good even to you too ; and you are welcome.
Roicl. Thank you.
Petron. I have a certain daughter
Bowl. Would you had, sir !
Petron. No doubt you know her well.
Bold. Nor never shall, sir : She is a woman ; and the ways unto her Are like the finding of a certain path After a deep fain snow.
Petron. Well, that's by the bye still. This daughter that I tell you of is fain A little crop-sick with the dangerous surfeit She took of your affection.
Rowl. Mine, sir !
Petron. Yes, sir ; Or rather, as it seems, repenting : and there She lies within, debating on it.
Rowl Well, sir ?
Petron. I think "'twere well you would see her.
Roiol. If you please, sir ; T am not squeamish of my visitation.
Petron. But this I '11 tell you, she is alter'd much ; You '11 find her now another Livia.
Bowl. I have enough o' the old, sir.
Petron. No more fool
SCENE I.] • THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 197
To look gay babies in your eyes, young Rowland, And hang about your pretty neck
Boioh I am glad on 't, And thank my fates I have scap'd such execution.
Petron. And buss you till you blush again.
Rowl. That 's hard, sir ; She must kiss shamefully ere I blush at it ; I never was so boyish. Well, what follows ?
Petron. She 's mine now, as I please to settle her, At my command, and where I please to plant her : Only she would take a kind of farewell of you, And give you back a wandering vow or two, You left in pawn ; and two or three slight oaths She lent you too, she looks for.
Roicl. She shall have V-m, With all my heart, sir ; and, if you like it better, A free release in writing.
Petron. That 's the matter ; And you from her shall have another, Rowland, And then turn tail to tail, and peace be with you !
Roiol. So be it. — Your tw^enty pound sweats, Tranio.
Tra. 'Twill not undo me, Rowland ; do your worst.
Rowl. Come, shall we see her, sir ?
Bianca. Whatever she says You must bear manly, Rowland ; for her sickness Has made her somewhat teatish^.
Roiol. Let her talk Till her tongue ache, I care not. By this hand. Thou hast a handsome face, wench, and a body Daintily mounted ! — Now do I feel an hundred Running directly from me, as J piss'd it. [ Aside.
Curtains are drawn hy Petronius'I, and Livia is discovered in led, MoRoso standing beside Iter.
Bianca. Pray, draw 'em softly : the least hurry, sir, Puts her to much impatience. Petron. How is 't, daughter ?
•• teulish'\ Tlic same as tcllish (see note, vol. iv. 184), i. e. tetchy. So the first folio. — The second folio "pettish".
1 Curtains are drawn hy Petroniits, <^.c.] Both the folios have " Enter
198 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act v.
Livia. Oh, very sick, very sick ! yet somewhat Better, I hope, a little lightsomer, Because this good man has forgiven me. — Pray, set me higher. — Oh, my head !
Bianca. Well done, wench ! [Aside to Livia.
Livia. Father, and all good people that shall hear me, I have abus'd this man perniciously ; Was never old man humbled so : I have scorn'd him. And caird him nasty names ; I have spit at him, Flung candles' ends in 's beard, and calPd him Harrow, That must be drawn to all he does' ; contemn'd him, 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 sculler, The man yet living ; I gave him purging comfits, At a great christening once, That spoird his camlet breeches ; and one night I strew'd the stairs with pease, as he pass'd down. And the good gentleman, (woe worth me for 't !) Even with this ^ reverent head, this head of wisdom, Told two and twenty stairs, good and true, MissM not a step, and, as we say, verbatim Fell to the bottom, broke his casting-bottle '^,
Livia discovered abed, and Moroso by her". Sympsonand the Editors of 1778 gave " Livia discovei'ed a-bed, and Moroso by her " ; Weber " Livia brought in on a bed, Moroso by her." — In the next line Sympson silently printed "Pray draw her softly,'" &c. ; so the Editors of 1778; and so Weber, who, after mentioning the reading of the folios, observes, " as it is not to be supposed that Moroso lay also in the bed, the alteration [of Sympson] became obvious". Strange that they should not have perceived that " 'em" meant the curtains ! Towards the end of this scene Bianca says, " Draw all the curtains close".
' caU'd him Harrow,
That must be drawn to all he does'] " The allusion is probably to the agricultural instrument called the harrow," &c. Weber. Yes : but there seems to be also an allusion to some bug-bear termed Harrow : compai'e a passage in T/ie Captain (vol. iii. 283), —
" and hoot at thee, And call thee Bloody-bones, and Spade, and Spitfire," &c.
' thisi So the second folio ; and so Sympson. — The first folio "his" ; and so the Editors of 1778 and Weber.
' castiiiff-buttte] i. e. a phial for casting or sprinkling perfumed waters. The term is very common in our early writers.
SCENE I.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 199
Lost a fair toad-stone* of some eighteen shillings, Jumbled his joints together, had two stools. And was translated". All this villany Did I, I Livia, I alone, untaught.
Mor. And I, unask'd, forgive it.
Livia, Where 's Bianca I
Bianca. Here, cousin.
Livia. Give me drink.
Bianca. There.
Livia. Who 's that ?
Moi\ Rowland.
Livia. Oh, my dissembler, you and I must part ! Come nearer, sir.
Rowl. I am sorry for your sickness.
Livia. Be sorry for yourself, sir : you have wrong'd me ; But I forgive you. — Are the papers ready?
Bianca. 1 have 'em here. — Will 't please you view 'em ?
Petron. Yes.
Livia. Shew 'em the young man too ; I know he 's wiUing To shift his sails too ; 'tis for his more advancement : Alas, we might have beggar'd one another ! We are young both, and a world of children Might have been left behind to curse our follies ; We had been undone, Bianca, had we married, Undone for ever. I confess I lov'd him (I care not who shall know it) most entirely ; And once, upon my conscience, he lov'd me : But farewell that ! we must be wiser, cousin ; Love must not leave us to the world. Have you done?
Row]. Yes, and am ready to subscribe.
Livia. Pray, stay, then. Give me the papers (and let me peruse 'em), And so much time as may afford a tear At our last parting.
' toadslonel Among the vulgar errors of other days, was the belief that the toad contained in its head a stone, which was a specific against poison, and a remedy for various disordci's. See Steevens's note on Shakespeare's As you like it, act ii. sc. 1, and Nares's Gloss, in v.
" translated] i.e. entranced.
200 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act v.
Bianca. Pray, retire, and leave her ; I '11 call ye presently.
Petron. Come, gentlemen ; The shower must fall.
Roid. \A''ould I had never seen her !
\_Exeunt all except Livia and Bianca.
Bianca. Thou hast done bravely, wench.
Livia. Pray Heaven, it prove so !
Bianca. There are the other papers : when they come, Begin you first, and let the rest subscribe Hard by your side ; give 'em as little light As drapers do their wares.
Livia. Didst mark Moroso, In what an agony he was 1 and how he cried most When I abus'd him most ?
Bianca. That was but reason.
Livia. Oh, what a stinking thief is this ! Though I was but to counterfeit, he made me Directly sick indeed ; Thames-street to him Is a mere pomander^
Bianca. Let him be hang'd !
Livia. Amen.
Bianca. And lie you still ; And once more to your business.
Livia. Call 'em in. — \_Exit Bianx-a.
Now, if there be a power that pities lovers, Help now, and hear my prayers !
Re-enter Bianca, Petronius, Rowland, Tranio, and MoRoso.
Petron. Is she ready I
Bianca. She has done her lamentations : pray, go to her.
Livia. Rowland, come near me ; and, before you seal. Give me your hand : take it again : now kiss me. This is the last acquaintance we must have : I wish you ever happy : there 's the paper.
Roxol. Pray, stay a little.
Petron. Let me never live more,
* a mere pomander] Sec note, vol. iii. 43^. '• Mere means absolute." Weber.
.CENE I ] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 201
But I do begin to pity this young fellow ; How heartily he weeps !
Bianca. There 's pen and ink, sir.
Livia. Even here, I pray you : 'tis a little emblem How near you have been to me.
lioicl. There. YSigns.
Bianca. Your hands too, As witnesses.
Petron. By any means. — To the book", son.
Mor. \\^ith all my heart. [ They ,'<it/i/.
Bianca. You must deliver it.
Roid. There, Livia ; and a better love light on thee ! 1 can no more.
Bianca. To this you must be witness too.
Petron. We will, [The?/ sir///.
Bianca. Do you deliver it now.
Livia. Pray, set me up. — There, Rowland, all thy old love back ; and may A new to come exceed mine, and be happy ! I must no more.
Roicl. Farewell !
Livia. A long farewell ! \^Exit Rowland.
Bianca. Leave her, by any means, till this wild passion Be off her head. Draw all the curtains close. A day hence you may see her ; 'twill be better : She is now for little company.
Petron. Pray, tend her. I nmst to horse straight ; you must needs along too. To see my son aboard : were but his wife As fit for pity as this wench, I were happy.
Bianca. Time must do that too. Faro ye well. To-monow Vou shall receive a wife to quit* your sorrow. [Exeunt.
" the boo/i] " Means the deed wliicli they were to sign. So Glcndower sajn, ill the First Part of Hemy IV. [Act iii. se. 1],
' By this our book is drawn : we will hut seal, And then to horse immediately.' The ' book ' here means the instrument by which Glundower, Percy, and Mor- timer shared the kingdom amongst them." Mason. * quit'\ i. e. requite, recompense.
202 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act
SCENE II. — A room in the house of Petruchio.
Enter Jaques, Pedro, and Porters with a chest and hampers.
Jaques. Bring 'em away, sirs.
Pedro. Must the great trunks go too ?
Jaques. Yes, and the hampers. — Nay, be speedy, masters ; He '11 be at sea before us else.
Pedro. Oh, Jaques, What a most blessed turn hast thou
Jaques, I hope so.
Pedro. To have the sea between thee and this woman ! Nothing can drown her tongue but a storm.
Jaques. By your leave, We '11 get us up to Paris with all speed ; For, on my soul, as far as Amiens She'll carry blank)'. — Away to Lyon-key, And ship 'em presently ! we '11 follow ye.
Pedro. Now coiUd I wish her in that trunk. \^Exeunt Porters.
Jaques. God shield, man ! I had rather have a bear in 't.
Pedro. Yes, I '11 tell you ; For, in the passage, if a tempest take you, As many do, and you lie beating for it. Then, if it pleas'd the Fates, I would have the master, Out of a powerful providence, to cry " Lighten the ship of all hands, or we perish !" Then this for one, as best spar'd, should by all means Overboard presently.
Jaques. O' that condition. So we were certain to be rid of her, I would wish her with us. But, believe me, Pedro, She would spoil the fishing on this coast for ever ; For none would keep her company but dog-fish. As currish as herself, or porpisces^,
" She'll carry blank'] i. e. carry directly to, hit, the raai-k : see note, p. 117. ' por2nsces'] So botli the folios. — The Editors of 1778 and Weber print " porpoises."
scE.NE II.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 203
Made to all fatal uses : the two Fish- Streets,
Were she but once arriv'd amongst the whitings,
Would sing a woful misereri^ Pedro,
And mourn in poor-John^, till her memory
Were cast o' shore again with a strong sea-breach '' :
She would make god Neptune, and his fire-fork,
And all his demi-gods and goddesses,
As weary of the Flemish channel, Pedro,
As ever boy was of the school ; 'tis certain,
If she but met '^ him fair, and were well anger'd,
She would break his god- head.
Pedro. Oh, her tongue, her tongue !
Jaques. Rather, her many tongues !
Pedro. Or rather, strange tongues !
Jaques. Her lying tongue !
Pedro. Her lisping tongue !
Jaques. Her long tongue !
Pedro. Her lawless tongue !
Jaques. Her loud tongue !
Pedro. And her liquorish
Jaques. Many other tongues, and many stranger tongues Than ever Babel had to tell his ruins, ^Vere women rais'd withal ; but never a true one.
Enter Sophocles.
Soph. Home with your stuff" again ! the journey 's ended.
Jaques. What does your worship mean ?
Soph. Your master — Oh, Petruchio ! — Oh, poor fellows !
Pedro. Oh, Jaques, Jaques !
Sojih. Oh, your master 's dead, His body coming back ! His wife, his devil, The grief of her ^
Jaques. Has kill'd him ?
Soph. Kiird him, kiird him !
» poor-John'\ i. e. hake, salted and di-ied.
^ sea-hreachi i. e. breaking in of the sea. " We should read," says Mason, "'sea-breeze' " !
"^ mrll Both the folios "meet"; and so the modern editors.
•^ The grief of her ] " i. o. his grief occasioned by her." £rf. 1778, — Botli
the folios have " The grief of — her " ; and so Sympson.
204 . THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act v.
Pedro. Is there no law to hang her ?
Soph. Get ye in, And let her know her misery : I dare not, For fear impatience seize me, see her more ; I must away again : bid her for wife-hood, For honesty, if she have any in her. Even to avoid the shame that follows her, Cry if she can. Your weeping cannot mend it. The body will be here within this hour, — so tell her, — And all his friends to curse her. Farewell, fellows. \^Exit.
Pedro. Oh, Jaques, Jaques !
Jaques. Oh, my worthy master !
Pedro. Oh, my most beastly mistress ! hang her —
Jaques. Split her
Pedro. Drown her directly-
Jaques. Starve her
Pedro. Stink upon her
Jaques. Stone her to death ! may all she eat be eggs. Till she run kicking-mad for men !
Pedro. And he, That man that gives her remedy, pray Heaven He may even ipso facto lose his longings^'!
Jaques. Let 's go discharge ourselves ; and he that serves her, Or speaks a good word of her from this hour, A Sedgeley curse light on him, — which is, Pedro, "The fiend ride through him booted and spurr'd, with a sithe at 's back* ! " \_Exeunt.
• longings'^ So the first folio, — The second folio " fadding " (for " fading " perhaps ; see note, vol. ii. 197) ; and so Sympson.
^ A Sedgeley curse light on him, — which is, Pedro, " The fiend ride throuyh him booted and spurfd, with a sithe at 's back."'] " 'Sedgeley,' says Grose in his Proverbs, 'is near Dudley, (in Staffordshire,) and is famous for a manufactory of bolts, hinges, plough, cart, and fire-irons.' In Massinger's City Madam [act ii. sc. 2], it is quoted as a Scotch saying, • If she speak Her language, may the great fiend, booted and spurr'd, With a sithe at his girdle, an the Scotchman says. Ride headlong down her throat !' " Wkber (Mason having pre- viously cited the passage from Massingcr).
SCENE 111.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 205
SCENE Ul.— A street.
Enter Rowland zcith'a deed, and Tranio stealing/ behind him. Roivl. What a dull ass was I to let her go thus ! Upon my life, she loves me still. Well, paper, Thou only monument of what I have 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 '11 read ye once again, And then for ever study to forget ye ! — [Reads.
How 's this ! let me look better on 't : a contract ! [By Heaven]", a contract, seal'd and ratified, Her father's hand set to it, and Moroso's ! I do not dream, sure : let me read again : The same still ; 'tis a contract !
Tra. 'Tis so, Rowland ; And. by the virtue of the same, you pay me An hundred pound to-morrow.
Roicl Art sure, Tranio, We are both alive now ?
Tra. Wonder not ; you have lost.
Rowl. If this be true, I grant it.
Tra. 'Tis most certain : There 's a ring for you too ; you know it ? iGives ring.
JRoicl. Yes.
Tra. When shall I have my money ?
RincL Stay you, stay you : When shall I marry her ?
Tra. To-night.
Rowl. Take heed now You do not trifle [with] me : if you do. You '11 find more payment than your money comes to : Come, swear, (I know I am a man, and find I may deceive myself,) swear faithfully, Swear me directly, am I Rowland ?
f [By Heaven] A break here in both the folios.
206 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE, [act v.
Tra. Yes.
Roivl. Am I awake?
Tra. You ai'e.
Roicl. Am I in health ?
Tra. As far as I conceive.
Howl. Was I with Livia I
Tra. You were, and had this contract.
Rotvl. And shall I enjoy her ?
Tra. Yes, if you dare.
Roicl. Swear to all these.
Tra. I will.
Roivl. As thou art honest, as thou hast a consciences 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 conscience, All this is certain.
Itoivl. Let's remove our places'". Swear it again.
Tra. By [Heaven]', it is true.
Rowl. I have lost, then, and Heaven knows I am glad on 't. Let "'s go ; and tell me all, and tell me how, For yet I am a pagan in it.
Tra. I have a priest too ; And all shall come as even as two testers^. [_Exeunt.
^ Let's remove our places] " This is plainly a sneer at the scene in Hamlet [act i. sc. 5], whei'e (on account of the Ghost calling under the stage) the prince and his friends two or three times remove their situations. Again, in this play, p. 142, Petruchio's saying,
' Something III do ; but what it is, I know not,' seems to be meant as a i-idicule on Lear's passionate exclamation [act ii. sc. 4],
' / will do such things —
What they are, yet I know not ! ' " J. N. Ed. 1778. Nonsense : there is more of compliment than " sneer " in these recollections of Shakespeare.
• \_Heave7i] A break here in both the folios,
J testers'] i. e. sixpences : see Deuce's Illust. of Shakespeare, I. 35.
SCENE iv] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 207
SCENE IV. — The court before the house o/*Petbuchio.
Enter Petronius, Sophocles, Moroso, and Attendants bearing Petruchio in a coffin. Petron. Set down the body, and one call her out.
As an Attendant is about to go into the house, enter from it Maria
in black, icith Jaques and Pedro. You are welcome to the last cast of your fortunes ! There lies your husband ; there your loving husband ; There he that was Petruchio, too good for you : Your stubborn and unworthy w^ay has kill'd him, Ere he could reach the sea. If you can weep, Now you have cause, begin, and after death'' Do something yet to the world, to think you honest.
[JSIaria seems to weep. So many tears had sav'd him, shed in time ; And as they are, (so a good mind go with 'em,) Yet they may move compassion.
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 have cause to grieve, and mighty cause ; And truly and unfeignedly I weep it.
Soph. I sec there 's some good nature yet left in her.
Maria. But what 's the cause ? mistake me not ; not this man. As he is dead, I weep for ; Heaven defend' it ! I never was so childish : but his life. His poor, unmanly, wretched, foolish life. Is that my full eyes pity ; there \s my mourning.
Petron. Dost thou not shame ?
Maria. I do, and even to water. To think what this man was ; to think how simple, How far below a man, how far from reason,
■' after death'] Silently altered by Sympson to " after 's death ". ' defend] i. c. forbid.
208 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act v.
From common understanding and all gentry,
While he was living here, he walkM amongst us :
He had a happy turn, he died : I ""11 tell ye,
These are the wants I weep for, not his person ;
The memory of this man, had he liv'd
But two years longer, had begot more follies,
Than wealthy Autumn flies. But let him rest, —
He was a fool, and farewell he ! — not pitied,
I mean in way of life or action,
By any understanding man that 's honest,
But only in's posterity, which I,
Out of the fear his ruins might out-live him
In some bad issue, like a careful woman,
Like one indeed born only to preserve him,
Denied him means to raise.
Petru. \iising^ Unbutton me ! [By Heaven]™, I die indeed else ! — Oh, Maria, Oh, my unhappiness, my misery !
Petron. Go to him, whore ! [by Heaven], if he perish, I '11 see thee hangM myself !
Petru. Why, why, Maria [^Comes out of the coffin.
Maria. I have done ni}' worst, and have my end: forgive me! From this hour make me what you please : I have tam'd you, And now am vowM your servant. Look not strangely. Nor fear what I say to you. Dare you kiss me ? Thus I begin my new love. [.They kiss.
Petru. Once again !
Maria. With all my heart.
Petru. Once again, Maria ! — Oh, gentlemen, I know not where I am !
Soph. Get ye to bed, then; there you ^11 quickly know, sir.
Petru. Never no more your old tricks ?
Maria. Never, sir.
Petru. You shall not need ; for, as I have a faith, No cause shall give occasion.
Maria. As I am honest, And as I am a maid yet, all my life
"' [By Heaven'] Here, and in the next speech, both the folios have a break.
?CENK IV.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. 209
From this hour, since you make so free profession, I dedicate in service to your pleasure.
Soph. Ay, marry, this goes roundly off.
Petru. Go, Jaquus, Get all the best meat may be bought for money, And let the hogsheads blood: I am born again! [£^77 Jaques. Well, little England, when I see a husband, Of any other nation, stern or jealous, I '11 wish him but a woman of thy breeding ; And, if he have not butter to his' bread Till his '" teeth bleed, I 'll never trust my travel.
Enter Rowland, Livia, Bianca, and Tranio.
Petroii. What have we here ?
Roicl. Another morris, sir. That you must pipe to.
Tra. A poor married couple Desire an offerincf, sir.
Bianca. Never frown at it ; You cannot mend it now : there 's your own hand. And yours, Moroso, to confirm the bargain.
Peti'on. My hand !
Mor. Or mine I
Bianca. You '11 find it so.
Petron. A trick, By [Heaven]", a trick !
Bianca. Yes, sir, wc triek'd you.
Livia. Father
Petron. Hast thou lien with him I speak.
Livia, Yes, truly, sir.
Peti'on. And hast thou done the deed, boy I
Botch I have done, sir, That that will serve the turn, 1 think.
Petru. A match, then ! I '11 be the maker-up of this. — Moroso,
I /ijji] So the second folio. — The first folio " tiiy ". '" Ais] So the second folio. — The first folio " thy ". " [Ilcavcn^ A break here in both the folios, vol.. VII. P
210 THE WOMAN'S PRIZE. [act v.
There 's now no remedy, you see : be willing ; For, be or be not, he must have the wench.
Mor. Since I am over-reach'd, let 's in to dinner ; And, if I can, I 'll drink 't away.
Tra. That 's well said.
Petron. Well, sirrah, you have play'd a trick : look to 't, And let me be a grandsire within 's" twelvemonth, Or, by this hand, I "11 curtail half your fortunes !
Roicl. There shall not want my labour, sir. Your money Here 's one has undertaken.
Tra. Well, I 'II trust her ; And glad I have so good a pawn.
Moid, I '11 watch you.
Petru. Let ""s in, and drink of all hands, and be jovial : I have my colt again, and now she carries : And, gentlemen, whoever marries next. Let him be sure he keep him to his text. \_Exeunf.
EPILOGUE.
The Tamer ""s Tam'd ; but so, as nor the men
Can find one just cause to complain of, when
They fitly do consider, in their lives
They should not reign as tyrants o'er their wives
Nor can the women, from this precedent.
Insult or triumph ; it being aptly 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 deserve applause,
We something more than hope, our honest ends
Will keep the men, and women too, our friends.
" ?<'27Am'«] See note, p. 129.
THE CHANCES.
P 2
The Chances.
In the folios, 1647, 1679.
The second folio adds "A Comedp."
TuE prologue, which would seem to have been spoken at some revival, as also the verses of Gardiner among the Commendatoiy Poems, assign this comedy to Fletcher alone ; and, though neither of these authorities is entitled to much consideration, there appears to be no reason for doubting that they have assigned it rightly.
Langbaine {Acconiit of Engl. Dram. Poets, p. 207) was the first to observe that the plot of The Chances is taken from La Sennora Cornelia, one of the yovefas Excmplares of Cervantes ; and Welier furnished an abstract of the tale in question, which (with some alterations of the languige) I now subjoin.
" Don Antonio de Ysunca, and Don Juan de Gamboa, two gentlemen of high rank, and of the same age, had left Salamanca to distinguish them- selves in the wars of the Netherlands; but by the earnest persuasion of their parents they proceeded to Bologna, where they resumed their studies, and where their accomplishments procured them a good reception. / In that city the lady most celebrated for her beauty was Cornelia Bentivoglio ; and it became a favourite object with the two companions to obtain a sight of her, which her retired life rendered a matter of great difficulty. Juan one night declared his intention to his friend of going his usual rounds, nor would he accept of Antonio's offer to accompany him. "W'hcn Juan was about to return home, he heard the door of a house opened, and a vcjice asking him whether he w;!s Fabio ? Upon his answering in the afiirma- tive, a bundle was given to him, which he found so heavy that he was forced to employ both his hands. The door was then shut, and while he was ruminating how to act, he heard the crying of an infant in the bundle. Having carried it to the old woman with whom he and his companion lodged, he ordered lier to procure a nurse, and instead of the valuable clothes in which it was wrajiped, to dress it in others more humble, in order to prevent discovery. He then returned to the house where he had received it, and on his approach heard the clashing of swords, and found a single gentleman oppressed by a number of opponents. He immediately flew to his succour, but at the same time the gentleman was struck to the ground. Juan assaulted his enemies furiously, and tlie neighbours collecting to assist liim, they were forced to tly. In tlu
214
sciifBe Juan had lost his bonnet, and finding another, he put it on with- out considering whether it was his own or not. He inquired of the geutleman if he had been wounded ; and was answered that God and a good breast-plate had preserved him. At the same time appeared eight friends of the gentleman, who then begged Juan, after inquiring his name, to depart; and missing his bonnet, and finding that Juan wore it, insisted upon his retaining it as a mark whereby he should recognise his benefactor. Juan returning, met his friend Antonio, who informed him, that having gone in search of him, he had encountered a female who had requested his protection, and that he had conveyed her to their lodgings. She had fainted ; and on lifting her veil to revive her, he had discovered a face of extreme beauty. Upon her recovery she had praj-ed him to return to the street where he had met her, and if he found any one assaulted by enemies, to succour him. Juan then related his own adventures, and they proceeded homewards, Antonio telling his friend that the lady had entreated that no one but himself might behold her. When they entered the house, they found that the bonnet which Juan had received from the gentleman was a most superb one, ornamented W'ith a diamond of great value. Antonio went into the chamber of the lady, and Juan could not restrain himself from peeping in. The lady seeing the glitter of the diamond, addressed liim by the title of Duke, and said to Antonio that she knew the Duke of Ferraraby his hat. Juan then entered at her desire, and stated the circumstances under which he had obtained the hat. During his nai'ration the old woman passed by the room with the infant, which induced the lady to inquire concerning it, and upon beholding it, she found that it was her own. At the request of the two friends she related her history, infoi-ming them that she was Cornelia, the sister of Lorenzo Bentivoglio, by whom she had been carefully educated ; that she and Alfonso de Este, Duke of Ferrara, having accidentally met, a mutual attachment followed ; and that at last, on the promise of marriage, the duke accomplished his wishes, excusing however the immediate fulfilment of that promise on account of several difficulties which stood in the way ; that she soon discovered the effects of their intercourse, and acquainted the duke with the danger of her situation ; that he promised to convey her privately to Ferrara, and there to espouse her publicly ; but that on the very night fixed for her escape she perceived her brother and some others in complete armour, which, as she guessed the cause, filled her with dismay, and brought on a premature delivery ; that she caused the child to be given to a faith- ful servant, and afterwards herself escaped from the house. Having finished the relation, she threw herself on the bed in despair ; but was
215
at last comforted by assurances of protection and service from tlie two Si)aniards.
" In the morning they visited the lady, when one of their pages entered with the news that Lorenzo Bentivoglio was below, inquiring for Juan. Upon this, Cornelia, in great distress, renewed her request of protection and secrecy, and received the strongest assurances from Juan. He and his friend armed themselves, and the three pages were also furnished with weapons. Juan found Lorenzo below, who, taking him into a church opposite, informed him that his sister had been seduced and carried off by the Duke of Ferrara, under promise of marriage, which from the superior wealth and station of the duke he believed would never be performed. He then requested Juan to accompany hira to Ferrara, believing that one Spaniard was as good a guard as the whole army of Xerxes. The reason why he chose a stranger, was to prevent the intercession and anxiety of friends. Juan immediately accepted the pro- posal, and begged permission to acquaint his companion with the matter, to which Lorenzo consented. Juan then returned to his lodgings, where he made known to Cornelia and Antonio the result of the interview, and quieted the fears of the former, pointing out to her the necessity of learning the real intentions of the duke.
" Having recommended Conielia to the care of the old woman, Juan joined Lorenzo, and they began their journey to Ferrara. Antonio followed them in disguise, that he might succour his friend in case of necessity. He had scarcely left Cornelia when the old dame entered, and filled her mind with apprehensions.of her brother having purposely drawn off her protectors, in order to seize her. She persuaded her to go with her to the curate of a neighbouring village, whom she had formerly served, and whose secrecy and fidelity could be depended on.
" Meanwhile Lorenzo and Juan were proceeding to Ferrara ; and hearing that the duke was still at Bologna, they left the by-paths, which they had hitherto kept, and took the high road, in expectation of meeting him on his return to Ferrara. They soon beheld a company on horse- back, and Lorenzo requested Juan to await their appi'oach, and discover whether the duke was among them, while he himself rode apart. AV^hen the troop came up, the duke recognised his preserver by his hat, and thoy both dismounted from their horses. Lorenzo, imagining that his second was attacked, rode back to him, and found liim in the embraces of the duke. The latter recognised the brother of his mistress, and went aside with Juan, who asked his intentions respecting Cornelia. 'I'he duke answered that he had designed to take her to Ferrara, there publicly to espouse her, but that both she and the child had disappeared, and tliat
216
he was the more porplexed as his mother intended, on his return, to marry him to the daugliter of the Duke of Mantua. Upon this, Lorenzo, having advanced at a signal from Juan, was embraced and saluted hy the duke with tlie name of brother; and learning from Juan the intentions of the duke, he threw himself at his feet, and thanked him for the honour of the purposed alliance. Tlie two reconciled friends then resolved to search for Cornelia and lier child; when Antonio came up, and having been made known to the duke, informed him, at the desire of his comrade, that Cornelia and her child were safe in their lodgincs.
" They now detemiined to return to Bologna, and Antonio went before to apprise Cornelia of the reconciliation and approach of her brother and the duke; but to his astonishment he learned that she, as well as the old dame, were missing. When tlie others arrived with the joyful expecta- tion of beholding the objects of their affection, they found Antonio in the utmost despair. Suddenly one of the pages came in, and informed them that his fellow, Santistevan, had a lady locked within his chamber. Antonio immediately flew up to the room, which he found secured. He knocked, and called upon Cornelia to open the door, as her brother and the duke were reconciled and arrived. But a strange voice answered, ' ^Vhy do you jeer me? I am truly not so ugly that dukes and counts might not look for me ; but I deserve this treatment for being the companion of pages.' Upon this, Santistevan appeared, and tlirowing himself at the feet of Antonio, implored him not to mention the circumstance to his master Juan. He then informed him that the courtezan's name was also Cornelia. Lorenzo hearing this, asked, ' AVhere is Cornelia ?* and he and the duke rushed up and repeated the question. The courtezan replied, 'Here is Cornelia; ' and inquired whether it was so wonderful a thing that a woman should cohabit with a roguish page. Lorenzo tore off her veil, and discovered a girl of considerable beauty. The duke began to suspect the truth of the two Spaniards, and hurried out of the house. Juan and Antonio resolved to search for the lady in every part of the country.
" The duke, having set out on his return, came accidentally to the village-curate, with whom Cornelia was concealed. She overlieard the announcement of his arrival, but restrained herself from bursting into his apartment, and requested the priest to make him acquainted with her l;eing in the house. By his advice the infant was decorated with all the jewels which the duke had given her; and the curate presented it to him, saying that it had been brought from Bologna, and placed in his charge by a lady of extreme beauty, accompanied by an old confidante. Cornelia now entered, and the duke recognising her, was nearly overcome liy his feelings. lie despatched one of his followers to Bologna, who. in three
21"
(lays, retained with Lorenzo and the two Sjianiards. The duke pretended to thein, that as Cornelia was not to he found, he had determined to fulfil another promise of marriage which he had given to a peasant- uirl in the village; and, seeing the rage of Lorenzo and the two friends, he said that her extreme beauty would soon induce them to applaud his breach of faith to Cornelia. AVhen he had left the room, Juan swore that the duke's life should pay for his unfaithfulness, and Lorenzo and Antonio declared themselves of the same resolution : but their anger was soon allayed when they beheld Cornelia brought in by the duke, with the old woman and the nurse. The two lovers were secretly married by the curate, but the speedy death of the duke's mother soon enabled him to declare Cornelia his duchess."
That The Chances was successful on its first representation is not to be doubted ; nor did it cease to be a stock-play till within a comparatively recent period. A droll taken from it and called The Landlady, which was acted during the suppression of the theatres, is in Kirkman's collec- tion, The Wits, or Sport upon Sport, Tart First, 1672, p. 140 (see vol. i. 200, of the present work). In 1082 an alteration of this comedy by the celebrated Villiers Duke of Buckingham was brought out at the theatre in Dorset Gardens : for the two last acts of the original his grace substituted two from his own pen, which though written in very indifferent prose, and grossly indelicate, are by no means destitute of humour, and heighten perhaps the interest of the catastrophe. In 1773 Garrick produced at Drury Lane Theatre another alteration of The Chances, which was little more than Buckingham's alteration rendered more decent, and — consider- ably more dull. In 1821 Don John, or The Two Viokttas, a musical drama in three acts, founded on Beaumont and Fletcher's comedy of The Chances, was played at Covent-Garden Theatre.
PROLOGUE'.
Aptness for mirth to all ! This instant night
Thalia hath prepar'd, for your delight,
Her choice and curious viands, in each part
SeasonM with rarities of wit and ^ art :
Nor fear I to be tax'd for a vain boast ;
My promise will find credit with the most,
When they know ingenious '- Fletcher made it, he
Being in himself a perfect comedy ;
And some sit here, I doubt not, dare aver
Living he made that house a theatre
AVhich he pleas'd to frequent : and thus much we
Could not but pay to hisJovMimemory.
For ourselves, we do entreat that you would not
Expect strange turns and windings in the plot,
Objects of state, and now and then a rhyme.
To gall particular persons with the time ;
Or that his towering Muse hath made her flight
Nearer your apprehension than your sight ;
But, if that sweet expression'', quick conceit,
Familiar language, fashion'd to the weight
Of such as speak it, have the power to raise
.Your grace to us, with trophies to his praise ;
We may profess, presuming on his skill,
If his Chances please not you, our fortune 's ill.
•■ prologue'^ " Was probably spoken at a revival." Webeu.
'' aH(/] So the second folio. — The first folio " as."
•^ ingenious^ So the second folio — The first folio "ingenuous." (The words were formerly synonymous.)
<i /ot'rf] Both the folios " loud " (the compositor of the first folio having omitted the apostrophe between the u and the d) ; and so the modern editors !
' e.ipres.sion] So Beaumont's /'ocw-s &c., 1653.— Both the folios "expres- sions " ; and so the modern editors.
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
Duke of Ferrara.
Petruchio, governor of Bologna.
Antonio, liis kinsman.
Don JonN, T ^ . , , , .
V bpaniarus and kinsmen. Don Frederick, J
Three Gentlemen, friends to the Duke.
Two Gentlemen, friends to Petruchio.
Peter Vecchio, a teacher of grammar and music.
Peter, -i ^
V servants to Don John and Don Frederick. Anthony, J — -"
^ servants to Antonio.
Francisco, a musician, Rowland,
Surgeon. Officer, Servants,
Constantia, sister to Petkuchio.
Gillian, landlady to Don John and Don Frederu k,
Constantia, mistress to Antonio.
Bawd.
Waiting- woman to the first Constantia.
Scene — Boloyna, anti the adjacent country.
THE CHANCES.
ACT I.
SCENE l.—^A room in the Iiouse oj" Gilliw.
Enter Peter and Antuony.
Peter. I would we were remov'd from this town, Anthony, That we might taste some quiet ! for mine own part, I 'm ahnost melted with continual trotting After incjuiries, dreams, and revelations, Of who knows M'hom or where. Serve wenching soldiers, That know no other paradise but plackets'' ? I '11 serve a priest in Lent first, and cat bellropes.
Anth. Thou art the froward'st fool !
Pefcr. Why, good tame Anthony, Tell me but this ; to what end came we hither ?
A)ith. To wait upon our masters.
Peter. But how, Anthony ? Answer me that; resolve'' me there, good Anthony.
Anth. To serve their uses.
Peter. Shew your uses, Anthony.
Aiith. To be employ'd in any tiling.
Peter. No, Anthony, Not any thing, I take it ; nor that thing ^\'e travel to discover, like new islands : A salt itch serve such uses ! In things of moment, Concerning things, I grant you ; not things errant, Sweet ladies' things, and things to thank the surgeon ; In no such things, sweet Anthony. Put case
* plackets'] Sec note, vol. vi. 508. '' resolre] i. e. satisfy, iuforin.
222 THE CHANCES. [act i.
Anth. Come, come, all will be mended; this invisible woman, Of infinite report for shape and virtue, That bred us all this trouble to no purpose, They are determin'd now no more to think on, But fall close to their studies.
Peter. Was there ever Men known to run mad with report before ? Or wander'^ after that they know not where To find ? or, if found, how to enjoy I Are men's brain.s Made now-a-days of malt, that their affections Are never sober, but, like drunken people, Founder at every new fame I I do believe, too^ That men in love are ever drunk, as drunken men jAre ever loving.
Anth. Prithee, be thou sober. And know that they are none of those ; not guilty Of the least vanity of love ; only a doubt Fame might too far report, or rather flatter The graces of this woman, made them curious • To find the truth ; which since they find so block'd '' And lockM up from their searches, they are now settled To give the wonder over.
Peter. Would they were settled To give me some new shoes too ! for I '11 be sworn These are e'en worn out to the reasonable soles In their good worships' business : and some sleep Would not do much amiss, unless they mean To make a bellman on ^ me. And what now Mean they to study, Anthony ? moral philosophy, After their mar-all women ?
Anth. Mar a fool's head !
Peter. T will mar two fools' heads, an they take not heed, Besides the giblets to 'em.
Ayith. Will you walk, sir,
•^ wander'\ Both the folios •' wondei* ". "I hloclCd] So the second folio. — The first folio " blotted ". = on] i. e. of.— The Editors of 1778 silently altered it to "of"; and so Weber.
SCENE I.] THE CHANCES. 223
And talk more out of hearing '. your fool's head May chance to find a wooden nightcap else.
Veter. I never lay in any,
Anth. Then leave your lying, And your blind prophesying*". Here they come : You had best tell them as much.
Peter. I am no tell-tale. [Exeunt.
Enter Don John and Don Frederick.
John. I would we could have seen her though ! for, sure, She must be some rare creature, or report lies. All men's reports too.
Fred. I could well wish I had seen her ; But since she is so conceaFd, so beyond venture Kept and preserved from view.^sojike^a paradjse, Plac'd where no knowledge can come near her, so guarded As 't were impossible, though known, to reach her, I have made up my belief.
John. Hang me, from this hour If I more think upon her, or believe her ; But, as she came a strong report unto me, So the next fame shall lose her.
Fred. 'Tis the next way. But whither are you walking I
John. My old round After my meat, and then to bed.
Fred. 'Tis healthful.
.Tohn. Will not you stir ?
Fred. I have a little business.
John. Upon my life, this lady still —
Fred. Then you will lose it.
John. Pray, let us walk together.
Fred. Now I cannot.
John. I have something to impart.
Fred. An hour hence I will not miss to meet you.
' Then leave your lying, And your blind prophesying] Qy. ought tliis to stand as two lines of Skeltonic verse, and a quotation ?
224 THE CHANCES. [act i.
John. Where ?
Fred. V i\\ High Street ; For, not to He, I have a few devotions To do first ; then I am yours.
John. Remember. {E.xeunt severally.
SCENE 11.— A room in the house of Petruchio. Enter Petruchio, Anto>'io, and two Gentlemen.
Ant. Cut his wind-pipe, I say.
First Gent. Fie, Antonio !•
Ant. Or knock his brains out first, and then forgive him : K you do thrust, be sure it be to th' hilts A surgeon may see through him^'.
First Gent. You are too violent.
Sec. Gent. Too open undiscreet. ,
Petru. Am I not ruinM ? The honour of my house crack'd I my blood poisonM i My credit, and my name ?
Sec. Gent. Be sure it be so, Before you use this violence : let not doubt And a suspecting anger so much sway you Your wisdom may be questionM.
Ant. I say, kill him, And then dispute the cause : cut off what may be. And what is shall be safe.
Sec. Gent. Hang up a true man''. Because 'tis possible he may be thievish ! Alas, is this good justice ?
Petru. I know, as certain As day must come again, as clear as truth. And open as belief can lay it to me, That I am basely wrong'd, wronged above recompense, Maliciously abus'd, blasted for ever
« A surgeon may see through him] "i. c. so that a surgeon may see tlu-ough him." Mason. Weber compares the fourth speech after this—" Your wisdom may be question'd."
^ a true man] i. e. an honest man.
I
SCENE n.] THE CHANCES. 225
In name and honour, lost to all remembrance,
But what is smear'd and shameful : I must kill him ;
Necessity compels me.
First Gent. But think better.
Petru. There is no other cure left : yet, witjiess with me, All that is fair in man, all that is noble, I am not greedy of this life I seek for,
Nor thirst to shed man's blood ; and would 't were possible — I wish it with my soul, so much I tremble To offend the sacred image of my Maker— My sword could only kill his crimes ! No, 'tis honour. Honour, my noble friends, that idol honour That all the world now worships, not Petruchio, Must do this justice.
Ant. Let it once be done, And 'tis no matter whether you, or honour, Or both, be accessary. ^^
Sec. Gent. Do you weigh, Petruchio, The value of the person, power and greatness. And what this spark may kindle I
Petru. To perform it. So much I am tied to reputation And credit of my house, let it raise wild-fires That all this dukedom smoke, and storms that toss me Into the waves' of everlasting ruin. Yet I must through. Tf ye dare side me
Ant. Dare !
Petru. Ye 're friends indeed ; if not
Sec. Gent. Here 's none flies from you ; Do it in what design you please, we '11 back you.
Ant. But, then, be sure you kill himJ.
Sec. Gent. Is the cause So mortal, nothing but his life
' waves'] So the second folio. — The first folio "stormcs".
J Ant. But, then, be sure you kill him} In both the folios the prefix to this speech is " 1.," i. e. First Gentleman. " Mr. Seward, observing that these words did not suit the moderate character of the Gentlemen, gives them to Petruchio. They are much more suitable to Antonio, we think, who is crying out for bloo through the whole scene." Ed. 1778 ; and so Weber. I am not sure, however, but that Seward was right, vor.. VII. ti
226 THE CHANCES. [act i.
Petru. Believe me, A less offence has been the desolation Of a whole name.
First Gent. No other way to purge it ?
Petru. There is; but never to be hop'd for.
Sec. Gent. Think an hour more ; And, if then you find no safer road to guide you, We '11 set up our rests ^^ too.
Ant. Mine 's up already ; And hang him, for my part, goes less ' than life !
Sec. Gent. If we see noble cause, 'tis like our swords May be as free and forward as your words. ^ [Exeunt.
SCENE III. — Street before the house of Petruchio.
Enter Don John.
John. The civil order of this town, Bologna, Makes it belov'd and honour'd of all travellers, As a most safe retirement in all troubles ; Beside ™ the wholesome seat, and noble temper Of those minds that inhabit it, safely wise, And to all strangers virtuous. But I see My admiration has drawn night upon me ; And longer to expect my friend may pull me Into suspicion of too late a stirrer, Which all good governments are jealous of: I '11 home, and think at liberty. Yet, certain, 'Tis not so far night as I thought ; for, see, A fair house yet stands open : yet all about it Are close, and no lights stirring : there may be foul play ; I '11 venture to look in ; if there be knaves, I may do a good office.
Wait.-iv. \icithhi\ Signior !
John. What ! how is this ? [Aside.
Wait. -10. [loithin] Signior Fabricio !
John. I '11 go nearer. \_Asid('.
^ set tip our rests'] See note, p. 82. ' goes less] See note, p. 117.
'» Bcsilc] The Editors of 1778 and Weber chose to print " Besides".
SCENE IV.] THE CHANCES. 227
Wait. -IV. Yicithbi] Fabricio !
John. This is a woman's tongue ; here may be good done.
\_ Aside. Wait.-io. [loithhi] Who 's there I Fabricio l John. Ay.
JVait.'iv. [icithin] Where are you ? Johji. Here.
Wait.-iv. [within^ Oh, come, for Heaven's sake ! John. I must see what this means. [_Aside.
Enter Waiting- woman, tcith a bundle, from the house.
Wait.-iu. I have stayM this long hour for you. Make no noise, For things are in strange trouble. Here ; be secret ; 'Tis worth your care \^Gives him the hnndk]. Begone now:
more eyes watch us Than may be for our safeties.
John. Hark you —
PVait.-w. Peace : good night. [Exit.
John. She is gone, and I am loaden ; fortune for me ! It weighs well, and it feels well ; it may chance To be some pack of worth : by the mass, 'tis heavy ; If it be coin or jewels, 'tis worth welcome ; I '11 ne'er refuse a fortune : I am confident 'Tis of no common price. Now to my lodging. If it hit right, I '11 bless this night. ^ [Exit.
SCENE lY.— Another street.
Enter Don Frederick. Fred. 'Tis strange I cannot meet him ; sure, he has encounter'd Some light-o'-love'" or other, and there means
"' light-6'-love'\ Is properly the name of an old dancc-tunc, which is given (from a MS.) by Sir J. Hawkins in a note on Shakespeare's Much Ado about Nothing, act iii. sc. 4. In Nat. Engl. Airs, ii. 193, Mr. Chappell has reprinted from a unique black-letter copy, dated \^1Q,A very proper Dittie : To the Ttinc of Lightie Love. Our early writers vci-y frequently mention the tunc of light- o'-love, and also (as in the present passage) use the word as equivalent to — a light woman, a wanton.
Q 2
228 THE CHANCES. [act i.
To play at in-and-in" for this night. Well, Don John^
If you do spring a leak, or get an itch
Till you claw off your curFd pate, thank your nigh t- walks ;
You must be still a-boot-haling". One round more,
Though it be late, I '11 venture to discover you :
I do not like your out-leaps. [^Exit.
SCENE V. — A room in the lodging of the Duke.
Enter Duke and three Gentlemen.
Duke. Welcome to town. Are ye all fit ?
First Gent. To points, sir.
Buke. Where are the horses ?
Sec. Gent. Where they were appointed.
Diike. Be private; and ^ whatsoever fortune Offer itself, let 's stand sure.
Third Gent. Fear not us : Ere you shall be endangered or deluded, We '11 make a black night on 't.
Buke. No more ; I know it. You know your quarters ?
First Gent. Will you go alone, sir ?
Buke. Ye shall not be far from me ; the least noise Shall bring ye to my rescue.
Sec. Gent. Wo are counsell'd. \^Exeunt.
" in-and-in'^ A quibbling allusion to the game so called : " Inn-and-Inn is a Game very much used at an Ordinary, and may be play'd by two or three, each having a Box in his hand. It is play'd with four Dice ", &c. &c. The Compleat Gamester, &.e., p. 117, ed. 1G80.
° a-boot-haling] Is spelt in both the folios " bootehalling ", and was misunder- stood by the modern editors. — " Bulincment : A bootehaliny, preying on, mak- ing spoile of." Cotgrave's Diet. The word boot-haling is compounded of boot (booty) and hale (to drag). Here it is equivalent to — prowling for wenches.
P To point] "Signifies completely, as we now say, to a hnir." Ed. 1778. " A literal translation of the French a point." Mason.
9 Be private; and] Silently altered by Sewai'd to "Be private aW ; and"; and so his successors.
I
SCENE VI.] THE CHANCES. 229
SCENE VI.— yi street.
Enter Don John, tcith a child in his arms.
John. Was ever man so paid for being curious, Ever so bobb'd'' for searching out adventures, As I am I Did the devil lead me ? must I needs be peeping Into men's houses, where I had no business. And make myself a mischief! 'Tis well carried ! I must take other men's occasions on me, And be I know not whom ! most finely handled ! What have I got by this now? what's the purchase^? A piece of evening arras-work, a child, Indeed an infidel, — this comes of peeping ! — A lump got out of laziness. — Good White-bread, Let's have no bawling with you.— 'Sdeath, have I Known wenches thus long, all the ways of wenches, Their snares and subtilties ; have I read over All their school-learnings, div'd into their quiddits. And am I now bum-fiddled with a bastard i Fetch'd over with a card of five^ and in mine old days. After the dire massacre of a million
Of maidenheads, caught the common way ? i' the night too, Under another's name, to make the matter Carry more weight about it ? Well, Don John, You will be wiser one day, when you have purchas'd A bevy of these butter-prints" together, \V'ith searching out conceafd iniquities Without commission. Why, it would never grieve me, If I had got this gingerbread ; never stirrM me, So I had had a stroke for 't ; 't had been justice Then to have kept it : but to raise a dairy For other men's adulteries, consume myself in caudles'",
' Ever so bobbed] i. e. ever so cheated, ever had such a trick put upou lilin.
' purchase] i. e. bdoty, gain.
' a card offiee'\ i. e. a fifth card, a five, — which is comparatively a weak one at any game. This expression, I beUcvc, is not common, tliough uc find frequent mention of "a card of ten".
" //uttcr-pri?ils] A cant term which lias occurred liefore : see vol, iv. 111].
' caudles] So Seward, at Sympson's suggestion. — Both the folios have
230 THE CHANCES. [act i.
And scouring-works, in nurses, bells, and babies ^^',
Only for charity, for mere " I thank you,"
A little troubles me : the least touch for it,
Had but my breeches got it, had contented me.
Whose'er it is, sure 't had a wealthy mother,
For 'tis well clothed, and, if I be not cozeu'd,
Well lin'd within. To leave it here were barbarous,
And ten to one would kill it ; a more sin
Than his that got it : well, I will dispose on 't.
And keep it, as they keep deaths' heads in rings,
To cry memento to me, no more peeping !
Now all the danger is to qualify '^
The good old gentlewoman, at whose house we live.
For she will fall upon me with a catechism
Of four hours long : I must endure all ;
For I will know this mother. — Come, good wonder.
Let you and I be jogging ; your starvM treble
Will waken the rude watch else. — All that be \l'
Curious night-walkers, may they find my fee ! \ [Exit.
SCENE VII. — Street before the house of Petruchio.
Enter Don Frederick. Fred. Sure, he's gone home: I have beaten all the purlieus, But cannot bolt him. If he be a-bobbing, ^Tis not my care can cure him : to-morrow morning
"candles" ; and so the Editors of 1778, who defend it by a i-eference to The Lovers' Progress, act iv, sc. 3, — where the same misprint ("candles") is found in both the folios !
" babies'\ Here Sympson proposed to read "bawbles" (spelt formerly babies) : and in a note on a passage of The Captain (vol. iii. 235), —
"and now you cry for't. As children do for babies, back again," I have put a query — " did the author write ' babies' (i. e. bawbles) ? " Tliat Sympson's conjecture was rightly rejected by his coadjutor Seward and the succeeduig editors, I do not dispute ; but that my own is at least a very pro- bable one, is shown by a passage of The IVoman's Prize (p. 130 of the present vol.), which stands thus in the fii-st folio, —
" he's like little children That lose their Babies, crying ripe". ' rjiuiH/i/] i. c. soften, soothe.
SCENE VII.] THE CHANCES. 231
I shall have further knowledge from a surgeon's, Where he lies moorM to mend his leaks. /
Enter ^ from the house, Constantia veiled. Con. I 'm ready, And through a world of dangers am flown to you : Be full of haste and care ; we are undone else. Where are your people \ which way must we travel ? For Heaven-sake, stay not here, sir !
Fred. What may this prove ? [Aside.
Con. Alas, I am mistaken, lost, undone. For ever perishM ! [Jszrfe]— Sir, for Heaven-sake, tell me. Are you a gentleman ; Fred. I am. Con. Of this place \ Fred. No, born in Spain. Con. As ever you lov'd honour, A s ever your desires may gain their ends. Do a poor wretched woman but this benefit. For I am forc'd to trust you !
Fred. You have charmM me^' : Humanity and honour bids rae help you ;
And, if I fail your trust
Con. The time 's too dangerous To stay your protestations ; I believe you — Alas, I must believe you ! From this place. Good noble sir, remove mo instantly, And for a time, where nothing but yourself And honest conversation may come near me, In some secure place settle me. What I am, And why thus boldly I commit my credit Into a stranger's hand, the fears and dangers That force me to this wild course, at more leisure I shall reveal unto you.
Fred. Come, be hearty ; He must strike through my life that takes you from me.
\_Exeunt.
y charrri'd njc] " i. c. bound mc to your service, as it were by eucliantmeut." Weber.
232 THE CHANCES. [act i.
SCENE V in.— Anothe}' street.
Enter Petruchio, Antonio, and two Gentlemen.
Petru. He will sure come. Are ye well arm\l l
Ant. Never fear us : Here 's that will make 'em dance without a fiddle.
Petru. We are to look for no weak foes, my friends, Nor unadvis'd ones.
Ant. Best gamesters make the best game ; AVe shall fight close and handsome, then.
First Gent. Antonio, You are a thought too bloody.'
Ant. Why, all physicians And penny almanacks^ allow the opening Of veins this month. Why do you talk of bloody ? What come we for ? to fall to cuffs for apples ? What, would you make the cause a cudgel-quarrel i On what terms stands this man ? is not his honour Open'd to his hand, and pick'd out like an oyster^ His credit like a quart-pot knock'd together, Able to hold no liquor I Clear but this point.
Petru. Speak softly, gentle cousin.
Ant. I "11 speak truly : What should men do allied to these discjraces ? Lick o'er his enemy, sit down, and dance him —
Sec. Gent. You are as far o' the bow-hand^ now.
Ant. And cry, " That's my fine boy ! thou wilt do so no more, child V
Petru. Here are no such cold pities.
Ant. By Saint Jaques, They shall not find me one ! Here's old tough Andrew'',
■'■ penny ahnaiiuchs] The stated price of almanacks, as apjiears from several authorities : sec Giftbrd's note on Jousou's irorks, ii. 42.
' o' the boiv-hand] See note, vol. iii. 132. In this place, the expression is very erroneously interpreted (after Johnson) by the Editors of 1778, whose note Weber retained.
» Andrew] " Meaning his broad-sword ; which was called an Andrew Fer- rara from the name of a man famous for making that weapon." Mason.
i^NEix.] THE CHANCES. 233
A special friend of mine ; an he but hold, I '11 strike 'em such a hornpipe ! knocks I come for. And the best blood I light on ; I profess it ; Not to scare costermongers ' : if I lose mine own, Mine audit's cast'', and farewell five and fifty !
Pefru. Let 's talk no longer : place yourselves with silence, As I directed ye, and when time calls us. As ye are friends, so shew yourselves.
Ant. So be it. [Exeioif.
SCENE IX. — A room in the house of Gillian. Enter Don John with the child., and Gillian.
Gillian. Nay, son, if this be your regard
John. Good mother
Gillian. Good me no goods ! Your cousin and yourself Are welcome to me, whilst you bear yourselves Like honest and true gentlemen. Bring hither To my house, that have ever been reputed A gentlewoman of a decent and fair carriage, And so behavM myself
John. 1 know you have.
Gillian. Bring hither, as I say, to make my name Stink in my neighbours' nostrils, your devices, Your brats, got out of Alligant^' and broken oaths ! \'our linsey-woolsey work, your hasty puddings ! 1 foster up your filch'd iniquities ! You are deceiv'd in me, sir ; I am none Of those receivers.
Jolui. Have 1 not sworn unto you 'Tis none of mine, and shew'd you how 1 found it ?
Gillian. You found an easy fool that let you get it ; She had better have worn pasterns'".
» costermonger.s'\ See note, vol. iii. 79.
" (•««/] So the bccond folio. — The first folio " lost".
<^ Alliffaiit] As oui- early writers very frequently corrupt the word — i. c. .i red .vine of Alicunt in the province of Valencia. (In Fletcher's Fair Maid of the Inn, act iv. sc. 2, the Clown calls it "Mlegant").— "The Landlady here means, • ^'<>ur brats produced by intoxication and faithless promises.'" Ed. 1773.
" She had hctlcr have trorn paslcrnx] Mason proposed here an unfortunato
234 THE CHANCES. [act i.
John. Will you hear mo ?
Gillian. Oaths ! what do you care for oaths, to gain your ends, When ye are high and pamper'd \ what saint know ye ? Or what rehgion, but your purpos'd lewdness, Is to be look'd for of ye ? Nay, I will tell ye, You will then swear like accus'd cut-purses, As far off truth too ; and lie beyond all falconers : I ■'m sick to see this dealing. I J
John. Heaven forbid, mother !
Gillian. Nay, I am very sick.
John. Who waits there l
Ant. [within^ Sir ?
John. Bring down the bottle of Canary wine.
Gillian. Exceeding sick ; Heaven help me !
John. Haste you, sirrah. — , /
I must even make her drunk [_Aside]. — Nay, gentle mother-^
Gillian. Now, fie upon you ! was it for this purpose You fetch'd your evening- walks for your digestions ? For this, pretended holiness ? No weather. Not before day, could hold you from the matins : Were these your bo-peep prayers ? you have pray'd well. And with a learned zeal ; watch'd well too : your saint, It seems, was pleasM as well. — Still sicker, sicker !
John. There is no talking to her till I have drench 'd her.
\^Aside. Enter Ajnthony, with a bottle of tcine. Give me. — Here, mother, take a good round draught ; 'Twill purge spleen from your spirits : deeper, mother,
[Gillian drinks.
Gillian. Ay, ay, son, you imagine this will mend all.
John. All, i' faith, mother.
Gillian. I confess, the wine Will do his part.
John. I '11 pledge you.
Gillian. But, son John —
conjectural cnieiidation, viz " Slie Iiad better have worn pattens" ; and hence, I presume, the i-einark of Todd (Johnson's Diet, in v. Pastern) that "elder poetry seems to exhibit the word paslern for a patten." — "Cotgrave", as Weber remarks, " explains Emjnts, ' shackles, fetters, or pasterns, for unrulie or unbroken horses' ".
SCENE IX.] THE CHANCES. 235
John. I know your meaning, mother ; touch it once more ; Alas, you look not well ! take a round draught (It warms the blood well, and restores the colour), And then we '11 talk at large.
Gillian. A civil gentleman ! A stranger ! one the town holds a good regard of! —
John. Nay, I will silence thee.
Gillian. One that should weigh his fair name!— Oh, a stitch !
John. There 's nothing better for a stitch, good mother : Make no spare of it ; as you love your health. Mince not the matter.
Gillian. As I said, a gentleman ! Lodge in my house ! Now Heaven 's my comfort, signior
John. I look'd for this. [_Aside.
Gillian. I did not think you would have us'd me thus ; A woman of my credit ; one. Heaven knows, That lov'd you but too tenderly.
John. Dear mother, f ever found your kindness, and acknowledge it.
Gillian. No, no, I am a fool to counsel you. Where 's the infant ? Come, let 's see your workmanship.
John. None of mine, mother ; But there 'tis, and a lusty one. \_Gives her the child.
Gillian. Heaven bless thee ! Thou hadst a hasty making ; but the best is, 'Tis many a good man's fortune. — As I live, Your own eyes, signior, and the nether lip As like you as you had spit it.
John. I am glad on 't.
Gillian. Bless me, what things are these ?
John. I thought my labour Was not all lost. 'Tis gold, and these are jewels, Both rich and right, I hope.
Gillian. Well, well, son John, 1 see you are a woodman', and can choose
' ivuodmnn^ i. u. forester, hunter. Compare a pa.-^.'^agc in vol. ii. 32, wlierc see note.
236 THE CHANCES. [act i.
Your deer, though it be i' the dark ; all your discretion
Is not yet lost ; this was well clapt aboard :
Here I am with you now, when, as they say,
Your pleasure comes with profit ; Vv'hen you must needs do,
Do where you may be done to, 'tis a wisdom
Becomes a young man well : be sure of one thing,
Lose not your labour and your time together.
It seasons of a fool, son ; time is precious,
Work wary whilst you have it : since you must traffic ,
Sometimes this slippery way, take sure hold, signior ;
Trade with no broken merchants, make your lading
As you would make your rest'^, adventurously,
But with advantage ever.
John. All this time, mother, 'The child wants looking- to, wants meat and nurses,
Gillian. Now blessing o' thy care ! it shall have all, And instantly ; I '11 seek a nurse myself, son. Tis a sweet child. — Ah, my young Spaniard ! — Take you no further care, sir.
John. Yes, of these jewels, I must, by your leave, mother. These are yours, To make your care the stronger ; for the rest I '11 find a master. The gold, for bringing up on 't, I freely render to your charge.
Gillian. No more words, Nor no more children, good son, as you love mo : This may do well.
John. I shall observe your morals. But where 's Don Frederick, mother ?
Gillian. Ten to one About the like adventure ; he told me, He was to find you out. \^Exit with child.
John. Why should he stay thus ? There may be some ill chance in 't : sleep I will not. Before I have found him : now this woman 's pleas'd, I '11 seek my friend out, and my care is oasM. lE.vif.
' wake your rc!>t~\ Sec note, p. 82.
sCKNEx.J THE CHANCES. 237
SCENE yi.— A street.
Enter Duke and Gentlemen.
First Gent. Believe, sir, 'tis as possible to do it As to remove the city : the main faction Swarm through the streets like hornets, arniM with angers Able to ruin states ; no safety left us, Nor means to die like men, if instantly You draw not back again. >^
Duke. May he be drawn. And quartered too, that turns now ! Were I surer Of death than thou art of thy fears, and with death More than those fears are too
First Gent. Sir, I fear not.
Duke. T would not crack my vow, start from my honour, Because I may find danger ; wound my soul To keep my body safe.
First Gent. I speak not, sir, Out of a baseness, to you.
Duke. No, nor do not, Out of a baseness, leave me. What is danger. More than the weakness of our apprehensions ? A poor cold part o*" the blood : who takes it hold of \ Cowards and wicked livers : valiant minds Were made the masters of it ; and, as hearty seamen In desperate storms stem with a little rudder The tumbling ruins of the ocean, So with their cause and swords do they do dangers. Say we were sure to die all in this venture (As I am confident against it), is there any Amongst us of so fat a sense, so pamper'd. Would choose luxuriously to lie a-bed. And purge away his spirit, send his soul out In sugar-sops and syrups? Give mo dying. As dying ought to be, upon mine enemy. Parting with mankind by a man that 's manly .'
238 THE CHANCES. [act i.
Let 'em be all the world, and bring along Cain's envy^ with 'era, I will on.
Sec. Gent. You may, sir ; But with what safety ?
First Gent. Since 'tis come to dying, You shall perceive, sir, here be those amongst us Can die as decently as other men, And with as little ceremony. On, brave sir.
Duke. That 's spoken heartily.
First Gent. And he that flinches, May he die lousy in a ditch !
Duke. No more dying ; There 's no such danger in it. What 's o'clock ?
Third Gent. Somewhat above your hour.
Duke. Away, then, quickly ! Make no noise, and no trouble will attend us. [^Exeunt.
SCENE XI. — A room in the house o/" Gillian.
Enter Don Frederick, and Peter with a candle.
Fred. Give me the candle. So ; go you out that way.
Peter. What have we now to do ? [Aside.
Fred. And, o' your life, sirrah, Let none come near the door without my knowledge ; No, not my landlady, nor my friend.
Peter. 'Tis done, sir.
Fred. Nor any serious business that concerns rae.
Peter. Is the wind there again ? [ Aside.
Fred. Begone.
Peter. I am, sir. \^Exit.
Fred. Now enter without fear :
Enter Constantia veiled.
and, noble lady, That safety and civility you wishM for Shall truly here attend you : no rude tongue
''• envy'\ " i. e. malice, hcatred." Webeu.
SCENE XI.]
THE CHANCES. 239
Nor rough behaviour knows this place, no wishes Beyond the moderation of a man Dare enter here ; your own desires and innocence, Join'd to my vow'd obedience, shall protect you, Were dangers more than doubts.
Con. You are truly noble, And worth a woman's trust. Let it become me, (I do beseech you, sir,) for all your kindness, To render, with my thanks, this worthless trifle ; I may be longer troublesome. \^Offers ajeivel.
Fred. Fair offices Are still their own rewards : Heaven bless me, lady, From selling civil courtesies ! May it please you. If you will force a favour to oblige me. Draw but that cloud aside, to satisfy me For what good angel I am engag'd.
Coyi. It shall be, For I am truly confident you are honest : The piece is scarce worth looking on. [^Unveils.
Fred. Trust me. The abstract of all beauty, soul of sweetness ! — Defend me, honest thoughts ! I shall grow wild else : What eyes are there, rather what little heavens, To stir men''s contemplations ! what a paradise Runs through each part she has I Good blood, be temperate : I must look off; too excellent an object Confounds the sense that sees it [Aside]. — -Noble lady. If there be any further service to cast on me^ Let it be worth my life, so much I honour you, Or the engagement of whole families.
Con. Your service is too liberal, worthy sir : Thus far I shall entreat
Fred. Command me, lady ; You make your power too poor.
Con. That presently. With all convenient haste, you would retire Unto the street you found me in.
Fred. 'Tis done.
Con. There, if you find a gentleman oppressed
240 THE CHANCES. [act i.
With force and violence, do a man's office, And draw your sword to rescue him.
Fred. He 's safe, Be what he will ; and let his foes be devils, ArmM with your pity, I shall conjure 'em. Retire ; this key will guide you : all things necessary
\^Gives key. Are there before you.
Con. All my prayers go with you !
Fred. You clap on proof '' upon me. [^a^Y Constantia.
Men say gold Does all, engages all, works through all dangers : Now I say beauty can do more. The king's exchequer, JNor all his wealthy Indies, could not draw me Through half those miseries this piece of pleasure Might make me leap into. "We are all like sea-cards ' ; All our endeavours and our motions, As they do to the north, still point at beauty, Still at the fairest : for a handsome woman. Setting my soul aside, it should go hard But I would strain my body ; yet to her. Unless it be her own free gratitude, Hopes, ye shall die, and thou, tongue, rot within me, Ere I infringe my faith. Now to my rescue, y^ \^E.xiL
'■ proofs " i. e. armour of proof." Mason.
' sea-cards'] i. e. mariners' compasses (as in vol. vi. 56.), — properly, the cards or papei's on which the points of the wind were marked.
SCENE I.] THE CHANCES. 241
ACT 11.
SCENE l.—A street.
Enter Duke, jnu^sued hy Petrcchio, Antonio, and two Gentlemen.
Duke. You will not all oppress me \
Ant. Kill him i' the wanton eye '' ; let me come to him.
Duke. Then ye shall buy me dearly.
Petru. Say you so, sir ?
Ant. I say cut his wesand, spoil his peeping'. — Have at your love-sick heart, sir ! \_They attack the Duke.
Enter Don John.
John. Sure, 'tis fighting : My friend may be engag'd. — Fie, gentlemen ! ^
This is unmanly odds. '
Ant. Fll stop your mouth, sir.
/ [Y)vike falls ^T}o^ John bestrides him. ^ ^
John. Nay, then, have at thee freely ! There's a plum, sir, to satisfy your longing.
Petru. Away! I hope I have sped him. Here comes rescue ; We shall be endanger'd. Where 's Antonio ?
A77t. I must have one thrust more, sir.
.Joh7i. Come up to me. \^Wou7ids Antonio.
A?it. A mischief confound your fingers !
Petru. How is ''t I
A}it. Well : H'as given me my quietus est ; I felt him In my small guts ; I 'm sure he has feez'd meJ. This comes of siding with you.
•• Kill him t' the tcanlon et/e] Compare Philaster, vol. i. 267 (where Theo- bald's explanation of the phrase is inauifestly wi-ong), and The Humorous Lien- tenant, vol. vi. 466.
' peepinff] i. e. chirping "To Peep (as birds), pi;9io." Coles's Diet. See too Todd's Johnson's Diet. — So the first folio. — The second folio "piping" ; and so the modern editors.
i feez'd me] Equivalent here to— quelled me, taken me down. Concerning this word (variously written, feaze, feize, pheese) see GifFord's note on Jonson's Works, iv. 189, and Nares's Gloss.
VOL. VII. R
2(2 THE CHANCES. [act ii.
Sec. Gent. Can you go, sir ?
Ant. I should go, man, an my head were off: Never talk of going.
Petru. Come, all shall be well, then : I hear more rescue coming.
Ant. Let 's turn back, then ; My skulFs uncloven yet ; let me but kill.
Enter the Duke's Gentlemen.
Petru. Away, for Heaven-sake, with him!
{_Exit Petruchio, with Antonio, and two Gentlemen.
John. How is 't ?
Duke. Well, sir; Only a little staggerM.
Gentlemen. Let 's pursue 'em.
Duke. No, not a man, I charge ye ! — Thanks, good coat ; Thou hast savM me a shrewd welcome : 'twas put home, too. With a good mind, I 'm sure on 't.
John. Are you safe, then ?
Duke. My thanks to you, brave sir, whose timely valour And manly courtesy came to my rescue,
John. You had foul play offer'd you, and shame befall him That can pass by oppression !
Duke. May I crave, sir, But thus much honour more, to know^ your name, And him I am so bound to ?
John. For the bond, sir, 'Tis every good man's tic ; to know me further Will little profit you : I am a stranger. My country Spain ; my name Don John, a gentleman That lies here for my study.
Duke. I have heard, sir. Much worthy mention of you ; yet I find Fame short of what you are.
John. You are pleas'd, sir, To express your courtesy : may I demand As freely what you are, and what mischance Cast you into this danger ?
Duke. For this present
SCENE I.] THE CHANCES. 243
1 must desire your pardon : you shall know me Ere it be long, sir, and a nobler thanks Than now my will can render.
John. Your will 's your own, sir.
Duke. What is 't you look for, sir ? have you lost any thing I
John. Only ray hat i' the scuffle : sure, these fellows ^Vere night-snaps '\
Duke. No, believe, sir. Pray you, use mine, For 'twill be hard to find your own now,
John. No, sir.
Duke. Indeed you shall ; I can command another : I do beseech you honour me.
John. I will, sir : \_Takes the Duke^s hat.
And so, ril take my leave.
Duke. Within these few days I hope I shall be happy in your knowledge ; Till when, I love your memory.
John. I yours. [_E.xennt Duke and Gentlemen.
This is some noble fellow.
Enter Don Frederick .
Fred. 'Tis his tongue, sure. — Don John ?
John. Don Frederick ?
Fred. You ""re fairly met, sir : I thought you had been a-bat-fowling. Prithee, tell me What revelations hast thou had to-night. That home was never thought of ?
John. Revelations ! I'll tell thee, Frederick ; but, before I tell thee, Settle thy understanding.
Fred. 'Tis proparVi, sir.
John. Why, then, mark what shall follow. This night, Frederick, This bawdy night
Fred. I thought no less.
John. This blind night, What dost think I have got ?
Fred. The pox, it may be.
•^ night-snaps'] i. e. niglit-robbers. U 2
244 THE CHANCES. [act ii.
John. Would 'twere no worse ! You talk of revelations ; I have got a revelation will reveal me An arrant coxcomb ^ while I live.
Fred. What is't ? Thou hast lost nothing ?
John. No, I have got, I tell thee.
Fred. What hast thou got :
John. One of the infantry, a child.
Fred. How !
John. A chopping child, man.
Fred. 'Give you joy, sir !
John. A lump of lewdness, Frederick; that's the truth on't : This town 's abominable.
Fred. I still told you, John, Your whoring must come home ; I counsell'd you : But where no grace is
John. 'Tis none o' mine, man.
Fred. Answer the parish so.
John. Cheated, in troth, Peeping into a house ; by whom I know not. Nor where to find the place again. No, Frederick, Had I but kiss'd the ring for 't — 'Tis no poor one, That's my best comfort, for 't has brought about it Enough to make it man. /
Fred. Where is 't I
John. At home.
Fred. A saving voyage ! But what will you say, signior. To him that, searching out your serious worship, Has met a stranger fortune ?
John. How, good Frederick ? A militant girl now to this boy would hit it.
Fred. No ; mine's a nobler venture. What do you think, sir, Of a distressed lady, one whose beauty Would over-sell all Italy ?
John. W^here is she ?
Fred. A woman of that rare behaviour, So qualified as admiration Dwells round about her ; of that perfect spirit
^ coxcomb'\ i. e. fool : see note, vol. iii. 123.
SCENE I.] THE CHANCES. 245
John. Ay, marry, sir !
Fred. That admirable carriage, That sweetness in discourse ; young as the Morning, Her blushes staining his ' i
John. But where 's this creature ? Shew me but that.
Fred. That's all one ; she 's forth-coming , I have her sure, boy.
John. Hark you, Frederick ; What truck betwixt my infant
Fred. 'Tis too light, sir ; Stick to your charges'", good Don John ; I am well.
John. But is there such a wench i
Fred. First tell me this, Did you not lately, as you walk 'd along, Discover people that were arm 'd, and Ukely To do offence ?
John. Yes, marry, and they urg'd it As far as they had spirit.
Fred. Pray, go forward.
John. A gentleman I found engagVl amongst 'era, It seems of noble breeding, I 'm sure brave mettle. As I return'd to look you " : I set in to him. And without hurt, 1 thank Heaven, rescu'd him. And came myself off safe too.
Fred. My work 's done, then : And now, to satisfy you, there is a woman, Oh, John, there is a woman
John. Oh, where is she?
Fred. And one of no less worth then T assure you ; And, which is more, fain under my protection.
John. I am glad of that. Forward, sweet Frederick.
Fred. And, which is more than that, by this night's wandering ; And, which is most of all, she is at home too, sir.
1 slaining hu] " i. e. out-doing or excelling his ; making them appear faint [sullied] by the superior lustre of her own." Mason, — who compares CupiWx Revenge, vol. ii. 38;?. I. .3. The word is very frequently found in this sense.
■" charges] Altered by Seward to " cliai'gc" ; and so the Editors of 177B.
" look you] i, c. look for you (as several times before).
2-lG THE CHANCES. [act ii.
John. Come, let 's be gone, then.
Fred. Yes ; but 'tis most certain You cannot see her, John.
John. Why?
Fred. She has sworn me That none else shall come near her, not my mother ", Till some few doubts are clear 'd .
John. Not look upon her ! What chamber is she in ?
Fred. In ours.
John. Let 's go, I say : A woman's oaths are wafers, break with making ; They must for modesty a little : we all know it.
Fi'ed. No, I '11 assure you, sir.
John. Not see her ! I smell an old dog-trick of yours. Well, Frederick, You talk 'd to me of whoring : let 's have fair play, Square dealing, I would wish you.
Fred. When 'tis come ( Which I know never will be) to that issue, Your spoon shall be as deep as mine, sir.
John. Tell me, And tell me true, is the cause honourable, Or for your ease ?
Fred. By all our friendship, John, 'Tis honest, and of great end .
John. I am answer 'd : But let me see her though ; leave the door open As you go in.
Fred. I dare not.
John. Not wide open. But just so as a jealous husband Would level at his wanton wife through.
Fred. That courtesy, If you desire no more, and keep it strictly, I dare afford you. Come ; 'tis now near morning. [^E.reinif.
"' tny inoliier] " He means the Lundlad^'." Maso.n.
scENiiii.J THE CHANCES. 247
SCENE II. — A room in the house of Githixy.
Enter Peter and Anthony.
Peter. Nay, tlie old woman ^s gone too.
AntJi. She 's a-catervvauling Among the gutters : but, conceive me, Peter, ^V'here our good masters should be ?
Peter. Where they should be I do conceive ; but where they are, good Anthony —
Antli. Ay, there it goes: my master's bo-peep 1' with me, With his sly popping in and out again, Ariiu'd a cause, a frippery cause.
Peter. Believe me, They bear up with some carvel''.
Anth. I do believe thee, For thou hast such a master for that chase, That till he spend' his main-mast
Peter. Pray, remember Your courtesy, good Anthony, and withal, How long 'tis since your master sprung a leak ; He had a sound one since he came.
Anth. Hark ! [Lute sounds within.
Peter. What?
Anth. Dost not hear a lute i Again !
Peter. Where is 't ;
Anth. Above, in my master's chamber.
Peter. There 's no creature ; He hath the key himself, man,
Anth. This is his lute ; Let him have it.
Peter. I grant you ; but who strikes it i [Sin(jin</ nithin.
Anth. An admiiablo voice too ; hark you !
SONG' [wiihin]. Merciless Love, whom nature hath dcuied The use of eyes, lest thou shouldst tjike a pride
I' bo-peep] Silently altered by Seward to " bo-peeps" ; and so hLa successors. •i carvel] See note, vol. i. 184.
' spend] The Editors of 1778 sileutly printed "spends" ; and so Weber. ^St>ii(/] " Like many others in this collection, was first inserted in the sciond
248 THE CHANCES. [act ir.
And glory in thy murders, why am I, That never yet transgress'd thy deity ', Never broke vow, from whose eyes never flew Disdamful dart, whose hard heart never slew, Thus ill rewarded" ? Thou art young and fair. Thy mother soft and gentle as the air, Thy holy fire still burning, blown with prayer : Then, everlasting Love, restrain thy will ; 'Tis god-like to have power, but not to kill.
Peter. Anthony, Art sure we are at home ]
Anth. Without all doubt, Peter.
Peter. Then this must be the devil.
Anth. Let it be. — Good devil, sing again ! [Singing again loithin.] Oh, dainty
devil !— Peter, believe it, a most delicate devil, The sweetest devil
Enter Don Frederick ; folloioed hy Don John, ^vho remains at the door^ peeping.
Fred. If you could leave peeping !
John. I cannot, by no means.
Fred. Then come in softly ; And, as you love your faith, presume no further Than you have promised. [Don John advances into the room.
John. Basta^'.
folio ; where the only stage direction is ' Lxite sounds u-i/hin' [opposite the words ' He had a sound one', &c.] That direction is also in the first folio; where, oppo. site to the words ' This is his lute,' &c. we have ' Sing u-ith'm a little,' and after- wards, at the words ' Let it be,' — ' Sing agen." Probably the song was divided originally, and different portions of it sung at different times to the end of the scene." Weber.
' transgress'd thy deity'] Compare vol. v. 65, 441, and p. 41 of the present vol.
" whose hard heart never slew.
Thus ill rewarded 9] Stands thus in the second folio (which alone contains this song) ;
" I'V hose hard heart never, Slctv those rewarders ?" Seward printed ;
" whose hard heart none e'er slew, Thus ill rewarded 9 " and so the Editors of 1778. I have, with Weber, retained only the second of Seward's alterations : it is at least better than nonsense. ' Basta] i. e. enough (as before, vol. iii. 52C, vol. vi. 107).
SCENE in.] THE CHANCES. 249
Fred. What make you up so early, sir I
John. You, sir, in your contemplations !
Peter, Oh, pray you, peace, sir ! \^Lute sounds again within.
Fred. Why peace, sir I
Peter. Do you hear ?
John. 'Tis your lute.
Fred. Pray you, speak softly ; She 's playing on 't.
Anth. The house is haunted, sir, For this we have heard this half-year.
Fi'ed. Ye saw nothing ?
Anth. Not I.
Peter. Nor I, sir.
Fred. Get us our breakfast, then ; And make no words on 't. We '11 undertake this spirit, If it be one.
Anth. This is no devil, Peter : Mum ; there be bats abroad. \_Exeunt Peter and Anthony.
Fred. Stay ; now she sings. [^Singing again within.
John. An angel's voice, I'll swear !
Fred. Why didst thou shrug so ? Either allay this heat, or. as I Hve, T will not trust you.
John. Pass: I warrant you. \^Exeunt.
SCENE III. — Another room in the same.
Enter Constantia. Con. To curse those stars that men say govern us, To rail at Fortune, fall out with my fate, And task the general world, will help me nothing: Alas, I am the same still ! neither are they Subject to helps or hurts : ,^ur own desires Arc our own fates, our own stars all our fortunes, Which, as we sway 'em, so abuse or bless u-s^^
Enter Doif Frederick ; followed hy Don John, VlUo remains at the door, peeping. Fred. Peace to your meditations !
250 THE CHANCES. Iact ii.
John. Pox upon you, Stand out o' the light !
Con. I crave your mercy, sir ; My mind, o'ercharg'd with care, made me unmannerly.
Fred. Pray you, set that mind at rest ; all shall be perfect.
John. I like the body rare ; a handsome body, A wondrous handsome body. Would she would turn ! See, an that spiteful puppy be not got Between me and my light again ! ^ Aside.
Fred. 'Tis done, As all that you command shall be : the gentleman Is safely off all danger.
John. Oh, de Dios f [Aside.
Con. How shall I thank you, sir ? how satisfy ?
Fred. Speak softly, gentle lady, all 's rewarded. — Now does he melt, like marmalade. \^Aside.
John. Nay, 'tis certain, Thou art the sweetest woman I e'er look'd on : I hope thou art not honest. \^Aside.
Fred. None disturb' d you I
Con. Not any, sir, nor any sound came near me ; I thank your care.
Fred. 'Tis well-
John. I would fain pray now, But the devil and that flesh there o" the world — What are we made to suffer ^I [Aside.
Fred. He will enter : — Pull in your head, and be hangM !
John. Hark you, Frederick ; I have brought you home your pack-saddle.
Fred. Pox upon you !
Con. Nay, let him enter. — Fie, my lord the duke, Stand peeping at your friends !
•^ But the devil and that flesh there o' the icor/d —
What are we made to suffer /] Seward printed, " But tic devil and thcttflei.h there, (O the icorld !) What are we made to suffer ? " iiiid proposed also in a note, " and the world— ". Both alterations are vii- laiious : )et Mason approves of the former ! By "lliutjiesh Ihtre o' the tiorld" John, of course, means Constantia.
SCENE III.] THE CHANCES. 251
Fred. You are cozen'd, lady ; Hero is no duke.
Con. I know hiui full well, signior.
John. Hold thee there, wench ! [Aside.
Fred. This mad-brain\l fool will s[)oil all. [_Aside.
Con. I do beseech your grace come in.
JoJin. My grace ! There was a word of comfort ! [Aside.
Fred. Shall he enter, Whoe'er he be !
John. AVell foUow'd, Frederick ! [Aside.
Con. W\\\\ all my heart.
Fred. Come in, then.
[Don John advances into the room.
John. Bless you, lady !
Fred. Nay, start not ; though he be a stranger to you, He 's of a noble strain ; my kinsman, lady, My countryman, and fellow-traveller : One bed contains us ever, one purse feeds us. And one faith free between us. Do not fear him ; He 's truly honest.
John. That's a lie. [Aside.
Fred. And trusty Beyond your wishes, valiant to defend, And modest to converse with as your blushes.
John. Now may I hang myself; this commendation Has broke the neck of all my hopes ; for now Must I cry " No, forsooth," and "Ay, forsooth," and "Surely," And " Truly, as I live," and " As I am honest." H'as done these things for 'nonce* too; for he knows. Like a most envious" rascal as he is, I am not honest, nor desire to be, Especially this way : iras watch'd his time ; But I shall quit'' him. [.{»uU\
Con. Sir, 1 credit you.
Fred. Go kiss her, John.
' for *nonce'\ i. c. for the occasion.
e cnv\ous.\ i. c. malicioii.s. '' qu\l\ i. c. rei|uitr.
252 THE CHANCES. [act ii.
John. Plague o'' your commendations !
Cun. Sir, I shall now desire to be a trouble.
John. Never to rae, sweet lady : thus I seal My faith and all my service. ^Kisses her.
Con. One word, signior. [To Don Frederick.
John. Now 'tis impossible I should be honest ; She kisses with a conjuration
Would make the devil dance. What points she at ? My leg, I warrant, or my well-knit body : Sit fast, Don Frederick ! — [Aside.
Fred. 'Twas given him by that gentleman You took such care of, his own being lost i' the scuffle.
Con. With much joy may he wear it ! — 'Tis a right one, I can assure you, gentleman ; and right happy May you be in all fights for that fair service !
Fj^ed. Why do you blush ?
Con. 'T had almost cozen'd me ; Forj not to lie, when I saw that, I looked for Another master of it : but 'tis well. [Knocking within.
Fred. Who 's there ? Stand you a little close.
[Exit CoNSTANTIA.
Come in, sir ! Enter Anthony. Now, what 's the news with you I
Anth. There is a gentleman without Would speak with Don John.
John. Who, sir ?
Anth. I do not know, sir ; but he shews a man Of no mean reckoning.
Fred. Let him shew his name. And then return a little wiser.
Anth. Well, sir. \^Exit.
Fred. How do you like her, John ?
John. As well as you, Frederick, For all I am honest ; you shall find it so too.
Fred. Art thou not honest ?
Jolin. Art thou [not] '' an ass ?
'' \_7iot'} Was inserted by the Editors of 1778, and, as the preceding siiieceh
SCENE III.] THE CHANCES. 253
" And modest as her blushes ! " what a blockhead'
Would e'er have popt out such a dry apology
For his dear friend ? and to a gentlewoman i
A woman of her youth and delicacy ?
They are arguments to draw them to abhor us.
An honest moral man ! 'tis for a constable :
A handsome man, a wholesome man, a tough man,
A liberal man, a likely man, a man
Made up like Hercules, unslak'd with service,
The same to-night, to-morrow-night, the next night,
And so to perpetuity of pleasures, —
These had been things to hearken to, things catching :
But you have such a spicM" consideration.
Such qualms upon your worship's conscience,
Such chilblains in your blood, that all things pinch you,
Which nature, and the liberal world, makes custom ;
And nothing but fair honour, oh, sweet honour !
Hang up your eunuch honour ! That I was trusty
And valiant, were things well put in ; but modest !
A modest gentleman ! Oh, wit, where wast thou ?
Fi'ed. I am sorry, John.
Joh?i. My lady's gentlewoman Would laugh me to a school-boy, make me blush With playing with my codpiece-point : fie on thee ! A man of thy discretion !
Fred. It shall be mended ; And henceforth you shall have your due.
Jolm. 1 look for 't.
Re-enter Anthony. How now ? who is 't ?
Anth. A gentleman of this town, And calls himself Petruchio.
John. I'll attend him. [Exii Anthony.
shews, is absolutely necessary. Weber, however, threw it out, having per- suaded himself tliat, without it, "there is as much poiut, and more of the quaintness of old language."
> what a blockhead] So the first folio.— The second folio has " What block- head." Seward silently printed " Why, what blockhead."
i spic'd] i. e. nice, scrupulous (as before, vol. vi. IGO).
254 THE CHANCES. [act ii.
Re-enter Constantia.
Con. How did he call himself?
Fred. Petruchio : Does it concern you aught 1
Con. Oh, gentlemen, The hour of my destruction is come on me ! I am disco ver'd, lost, left to my ruin ! As ever ye had pity — — \_Kneels.
John. Do not fear ; Let the great devil come, he shall come through me. Lost here, and we about you !
Fred. Fall before us !
Con. Oh, my unfortunate estate ! all angers Compar'd to his, to his
Fred. Let his, and all men's, Whilst we have power and life — Stand up, for Heaven-sake !
\^Raisin(j her.
Con. I have offended Heaven too; yet Heaven knows
John. We are all evil : Yet Heaven forbid we should have our deserts ! What is he I
Con. Too, too near to my offence, sir : Oh, he will cut me piece-meal ! n
Fred. 'Tis no treason I
John. Let it be what it will, if he cut here, I 'II find him cut-work.
Fred. He must buy you dear ; ^V^ith more than common lives.
John. Fear not, nor weep not : By Heaven, I '11 fire the town before you perish ! And then, the more the merrier, we'll jog with you.
Fred. Come in, and dry your eyes.
John. Pray, no more weeping : Spoil a sweet face for nothing ! ]\Iy return Shall end all this, I warrant you.
Con. Heaven grant it ! [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.] THE CHANCES. 255
SCENE lY.— Street before the house of Giliaxs.
Enter Petruchio, with a letter.
Petru. This man should be of special rank ; for these
commends
Carry no common way, no slight worth, with 'em :
He shall be he.
Enter Don John.
John. 'Save you, sir ! I am sorry My business was so unmannerly to make you Wait thus long here.
Petru. Occa.sions must be servM, sir. But is your name Don John \
John. It is, sir.
Petru. Then, First, for your own brave sake, I must embrace you ; Next, from the credit of your noble friend Hernando de Alvara, make you mine. Who lays hi.s charge upon me in this letter To look you out, and, for the goodness in you, Whilst your occasions make you resident I n this place, to supply you, love and honour you ; Which, had I known ^ sooner
Joltn. Noble sir. You '11 make my thanks too poor : I wear a sword, sir, And have a service to be still dispos'd of As you shall please command it.
Petru. Gentle sir, That manly courtesy is half my business : And, to be short, to make you know I honour you, And in all points believe your worth like oracle. And how above my friends (which are not few, And those not slack) I estimate your virtues. Make yourself understand, this day Petruchio (A man that may command the strength of this place, Hazard the boldest spirits) hath made choice Only of you, and in a noble office.
^ had J known'\ Seward silently printed "/<«</ / but known.''
256 THE CHANCES. [acth.
John. Forward ; I am free to entertain it.
Petru. Thus, then : — I do beseech you mark me.
John. I shall do it. y
Petru. Ferrara''s Duke (would I might call him worthy ! But that he has razVl out from his family, As he has mine with infamy), this man, Hather this powerful monster, we being left But two of all our house to stock our memories. My sister and myself, with arts and witchcrafts, Vows, and such oaths Heaven has no mercy for. Drew to dishonour this weak maid by stealths And secret passages I knew not of; Oft he obtain'd his wishes, oft abus'd her : — I am asham'd to say the rest : — this purchas'd. And his hot blood allay'd, as friends forsake us At a mile's end upon our way, he left her And all our name to ruin.
Jolin. This was fovd play. And ought to be rewarded so.
Petru. I hope so. He scaped me yester-night ; which, if he dare Again adventure for, Heaven pardon him ! I shall, with all my heart.
John. For me, brave signior, What do you intend I
Petru. Only, fair sir, this trust, Which, from the commendations of this letter, I dare presume well plac'd, — nobly to bear him By word of mouth a single challenge from me, That, man to man, if he have honour in him. We may decide all difference.
John. Fair and noble ; And I will do it home. When shall I visit you I
Petru. Please you, this afternoon. I will ride with you ; For at a castle, six miles hence, we are sure To find him.
John. I '11 be ready.
>CENE IV.] THE CHANCES. 257
Peti'u. To attend you, My man shall wait. ^Vith all my love '^ —
John. My service shall not fail you. [Exit Petruciiio.
Enter Don Frederick.
Fred. How now ?
John. All 's well. Who dost thou think this wench is I Guess, an thou canst.
Fred. I cannot.
John. Be it known, then, To all men by these presents, this is she, She, she, and only she, our curious coxcombs ' Were errant two months after.
Fred. Who ? Constantia l Thou talk'st of cocks and bulls.
John. I talk of wenches, Of cocks and hens, Don Frederick ; this is the pullet We two went proud after.
Fred. It cannot be.
John. It shall be ; Sister to Don Petruchio : I know all, man.
Fred. Now I believe.
John. Go to ! there has been stirring, Fumbling with linen, Frederick.
Fred. 'Tis impossible ; You know her fame was pure as fire.
John. That pure fire Has melted out her maidenhead ; she is crack'd 3l We have all that hope of'" our side, boy. ' »
Fred. Thou tell'st me. To my imagination, things incredible : I see no loose thought in her.
^ With all my love'\ " We much doubt whether these words are not pai-t of Don John's speech :
' IVilh all my love, my service shall not fail you.' " Ed. 1778. " Mason supports the alteration ; but a bar, shewing that Petruchio does not complete his speech, sets all right." Webeu,— whose arrangement is confirmed by the first folio, which has no point after " love ". ' ' cO't^combs] i. e. heads : see note, vol. vi. 155. "' of] i. e. on. VOL. VI r. a
258 THE CHANCES. [act hi.
John. That 's all one; She is loose i' tli"" hilts, by Heaven : but the world Must know a fair way, — upon vow of marriage.
Fred. There may be such a slip.
John. And will be, Frederick, Whilst the old game 's a-foot. I fear the boy too Will prove hers I took up ".
Fred. Good circumstance May cure all this yet.
Johi. There thou hit'st it, Frederick. Come, let ""s walk in and comfort her : her being here Is nothing yet suspected. Anon I ""ll tell thee Wherefore her brother came (who, by this light, Is a brave noble fellow), and what honour H 'as done to me a stranger. There be irons Heating for some, will hiss into their heart-bloods. Ere all be ended. So much for this time. , /
Fred. Well, sir. lExeimf.
ACT III.
SCENE I. — A room in the house o/'Gilliax.
Enter Gillian and Peter. Gillian. Come, you do know. Peter. I do not, by this hand, mistress :
But I suspect
Gillian. What ?
Peter. That, if eggs continue
" I fear the boy too
Will prove hers I took mjo] So the Duke of Buckingham in his alteration of the play ; and so Weber. — The fii'st folio has,
" / fcare the boy too Will prove hers too I took up." The second folio reads,
" I fear the boy Will prove hers too / took up '' ; and so Seward and the Editors of 1778.
SCENE I.] THE CHANCES. 259 X
At this price, women will ne'er be savM " By their good works.
GiJlian. I will know,
Peter. You shall, any thing Lies in my power. The duke of Lorrain now Is seven thousand strong : I heard it of a fish-wife, A woman of fine knowledge.
Gillian. Sirrah, sirrah !
Peter. The pope's bulls are broke loose too, and 'tis suspected They shall be baited in England.
Gillian. Very well, sir !
Peter. No, 'tis not so well, neither.
Gillian. But I say to you, ^Vho is it keeps your master company \
Peter. I say to you, Don John.
Gillian. I say, what woman ?
Peter. I say so too.
Gillian. I say again, I will know.
Peter. I say, ^tis fit you should.
Gillian. And I tell thee, He has a woman here.
Peter. And I tell thee, 'Tis then the better for him.
Gillian. You are no bawd now ?
Pete)'. Would I were able to be call'd unto it ! A worshipful vocation for my elders ; For, as I understand, it is a place Fitting my betters far.
Gillian. Was ever gentlewoman So frump^d off I' with a fool! Well, saucy sirrah, I will know who it is, and for what purpose ; I pay the rent, and I will know how my house Comes by these inflammations : if this gear hold, Best hang a sign-post up, to tell the signiors, Here ye may have lewdness at livery. \ u^
Peter. 'T would be a great ease to your age.
" will ne'er be sav'd] Qy. " never ti'xll be sav'd" ? 1* frump'd off] i. e. mocked, flouted.
s 2
260
THE CHANCES.
[act ni.
''"Tf "
Enter Frederick.
Fred. How now ! Why, what 's the matter, landlady ?
Gillian. What 's the matter ! Ye use me decently among ye, gentlemen.
Fred. Who has abus'd her ? you, sir ?
Gillian. 'Ods my witness, I will not be thus treated, that I will not '
Peter. I gave her no ill language.
Gillian. Thou liest lewdly ; Thou took'st me up at every word I spoke, As I had been a maukin P, a flurt-gillian n ; And thou think'st, because thou canst write and read, Our noses must be under thee.
F7'ed. Dare you, sirrah ?
Peter. Let but the truth be known, sir, I beseech you ; She raves of wenches, and I know not what, sir.
Gillian. Go to ! thou know'st too well, thou wicked varlet, Thou instrument of evil !
Peter. As I live, sir, She is ever thus till dinner.
Fred. Get you in ; I ""11 answer you anon, sir.
Peter. By this hand, I '11 break your posset-pan.
Gillian. Then, by this hood, I '11 lock the meat up. [Exit Peter.
Fred. Now, your grief ; what is 't i For I can guess
Gillian. You may, with shame enough, If there were shame amongst ye : nothing thought on, But how ye may abuse my house ! not satisfied AVith bringing home your bastards to undo me, But you must drill your whores here too ! ^My patience (Because I bear, and bear, and carry all,
P maukin} See note, vol. iii. 91.
1 flurt-giUian} The same asjlirl gill (which occurs, vol. ii. 198)— a transposi- tion of gill.Jlirt : see Nares's Gloss, in Flirt-gill.
jIojtkToorn
Ih3tIkiK)»«*
AniibearjLW
(ForsDcliioo-
GfcTui
hi W^
Orwesliilli'.i'
<jD)e.aft:
4i
M, CvOr.
ii ill cn::
1 «iii %: ,
i '^n
'JtiCTfcafci R
SCENE I.]
THE CHANCES.
261
And, as they say, am willing to groan under) Must be your make-sport now !
Fred. No more of these words, Nor no more murmurings, lady ; for you know That I know something. I did suspect your anger : Rut turn it presently and handsomely, And bear yourself discreetly to this woman, (For such a one there is indeed,)
Gillian. 'Tis well, son.
Fred. Leaving your devil's matins and your melancholies, Or we shall leave our lodgings.
Gillian. You have much need To use these vagrant ways, and to much profit : Ye had that might content
At home, within yourselves too, right good, gentlemen. Wholesome, and ye said handsome : but you gallants — Beast that I was to believe ye
Fred. Leave your suspicion ; For, as I live, there 's no such thing.
Gillian. Mine honour ! An *t were not for mine honour
Fred. Come, your honour, Your house, and you too, if you dare believe me, Are well enough. Sleek up yourself, leave crying. For I must have you entertain this lady With all civility, (she well deserves it,) Together with all secresy : I dare trust you, For I have found you ftiithful : when you know her. You will find your own fault. No more words, but do it.
Gillian. You know you may command me.
Enter Don John.
John. Worshipful lady, How does thy velvet scabbard I by this hand, Thou look'st most amiably : now could I willingly, An 'twere not for abusing thy Geneva print there, Venture my body with thee.
i>
260 THE CHANCES. [act in.
Enter Frederick. Fred. How now ! Why, what 's the matter, landlady ?
Gillian. What 's the matter ! Ye use me decently among ye, gentlemen. Fred. Who has abus'd her ? you, sir ? Gillian. 'Ods my witness, I will not be thus treated, that I will not • Peter. I gave her no ill language. Gillian. Thou liest lewdly ; Thou took'st me up at every word I spoke, As I had been a raaukin \\ a flurt-gilHan ^ ; And thou think'st, because thou canst write and read, Our noses must be under thee. Fred. Dare you, sirrah ?
Peter. Let but the truth be known, sir, I beseech you ; She raves of wenches, and I know not what, sir.
Gillian. Go to ! thou know^st too well, thou wicked varlet, Thou instrument of evil !
Peter. As I live, sir. She is ever thus till dinner.
Fred. Get you in ; I 'll answer you anon, sir.
Peter. By this hand, I '11 break your posset-pan.
Gillian. Then, by this hood, I '11 lock the meat up. [Exit Peter.
Fred. Now, your grief ; what is 't ? .
For I can guess
Gillian. You may, with shame enough. If there were shame amongst ye : nothing thought on, But how ye may abuse my house ! not satisfied With bringing home your bastards to undo me, But you must drill your whores here too ! -jMy patience (Because I bear, and bear, and carry all,
p maukiu'] See note, vol. iii. 91.
1 Jlurt-ffillian] The same Rsjirt gill (which occurs, vol. ii. 198)— a transposi- tion of gill-flirt : see Nares's Gloss, in Flirt-gill.
SCENE I.] THE CHANCES. 261
And, as they say, am willing to groan under) Must be your make-sport now !
Fred. No more of these words, Nor no more murmurings, lady ; for you know That I know something. I did suspect your anger : But turn it presently and handsomely, And bear yourself discreetly to this woman, (For such a one there is indeed,)
Gillian. 'Tis well, son.
Fred. Leaving your devil's matins and your melancholies, Or we shall leave our lodgings.
Gillian. You have much need To use these vagrant ways, and to much profit : Ye had that might content
At home, within yourselves too, right good, gentlemen. Wholesome, and ye said handsome : but you gallants — Beast that I was to believe ye
Fred. Leave your suspicion ; For, as I live, there 's no such thing.
Gillian. Mine honour ! An 't were not for mine honour
Fred. Come, your honour, Your house, and you too, if you dare believe me, Are well enough. Sleek up yourself, leave crying, For I must have you entertain this lady With all civility, (she well deserves it,) Together with all secresy : I dare trust you, For I have found you faithful : when you know her. You will find your own fault. No more words, but do it.
Gillian. You know you may command me.
Enter Don John.
John. AVorshipful lady, How does thy velvet scabbard I by this hand. Thou look'st most amiably : now could I willingly, An 'twere not for abusing thy Geneva print there, Venture my body with thee.
262 THE CHANCES. [act lu.
Gillian. You '11 leave this ropery' When you come to my years.
John. By this light, Thou art not above fifteen yet ; a mere girl ;
Thou hast not half thy teeth : come
Fred. Prithee, John, Let her alone ; she has been vex'd already ; She '11 grow stark mad, man. John. I would see her mad ;
An old mad woman
Fred. Prithee, be patient.
John. Is like a miller's mare troubled with tooth-ache ; She '11 make the rarest faces.
Fred. Go, and do it, And do not mind this fellow. Gillian. Well, Don John, There will be times again, when, " Oh, good mother, What 's good for a carnosity in the bladder ?
Oh, the green water, mother ! "
John. Doting take you ! Do you remember that ?
Fred. She has paid you now, sir.
Gillian. " Clary, sweet mother, clary^ ! "
Fred. Are you satisfied I
Gillian. " I '11 never whore again ; never give petticoats And waistcoats at five pound a-piece^ ! Good mother ! Quickly, mother ! " Now mock on, son. John. A devil grind your old chaps ! Fred. By this hand, wench, I ""ll give thee a new hood for this. [^Exit Gillian.
Has she met with your lordship ?
John. Touchwood take her" ! She 's a rare ghostly mother.
' ropery'^ i. e. roguex-y (what deserves a rope or halter). So the first folio. The second folio "I'oguery " ; and so Seward and the Editors of 1778.
' clary'\ Concerning " The [medicinal] Vertues " of this herb, see Parkin- son's Theatrum Bolanicum, 1G40, p. 59.
' wahlcoatu at five pound a-piece] See note, p. 127-
" take her] So the second folio.— The first folio " rake her '" ; and so Wcbcr.
scEiNKi.] THE CHANCES. 203
Enter Anthony.
Anth. Below attends you The gentleman's man, sir, that was with yuu.
John. Well, sir. lExit Anthony.
My time is come, then ; yet, if my project hold, You shall not stay behind : I '11 rather trust A cat with sweet milk, Frederick.
Enter Constantia.
By her face, I feel her fears are working.
Con. Is there no way (I do beseech ye think yet) to divert This certain danger ?
Fred. ^Tis impossible ; Their honours are engaged.
Con. Then there must be murder, Which, gentlemen, I shall no sooner hear of Than make one in 't. You may, if you please, sir. Make all go less'' yet.
John. Lady, were 't mine own cause, I could dispense ; but, loaden with my friend's trust, I must go on ; though general massacres, As much I fear
Con. [To Frederick] Do you hear, sir? for Heaven's pity, Let me request one love of you !
Fred. Yes, any thing.
Con. This gentleman I find too resolute, Too hot and fiery for the cause : as ever You did a virtuous deed, for honour's sake, Go with him, and allay him ; your fair temper, And noble disposition, like wish'd showers, May quench those eating fires that would spoil all else. I see in him destruction.
Fred. I will do it ; ,Afld 'tis a wise consideration,
" Make all go lea] E<iuivalcut here to— iircvcnt sueli hazard. Sec uoto, \\ 147.
264 THE CHANCES. [act jii
To me a bounteous favour. — Hark you, John ; I will go with you.
John. No.
Fred. Indeed I will ; You go upon a hazard : no denial ; For, as I live, 1 '11 go. ^
John. Then make you ready, For I am straight o' horse-back.
Fred. My sword on, I am as ready as you. — What my best labour, With all the art I have, can work upon 'em. Be sure of, and expect fair end. The old gentlewoman Shall wait upon you ; she is both grave and private, And you may trust her in all points.
Con. You are noble.
Fred. And so, I kiss your hand'\
John. That seal for me too ; And I hope happy issue, lady.
Con. All Heaven's care upon ye, and my prayers !
John. So, now my mind 's at rest.
Fred. Away ! 'tis late, John. yE.Teiint.
SCENE II. — A room in the house o/* Antonio.
Enter Antonio, Surgeon, and ttco Gentlemen.
First Gent. Come, sir, be hearty ; all the worst is past.
Ant. Give me some wine.
Sur. 'Tis death, sir.
Ant. 'Tis a horse, sir ! 'Sblood, to be drcss'd to the tune of ale only ! Nothing but sauces to my sores !
Sec. Gent. Fie, Antonio ! You must be govern'd.
Ant. H'as given me a damu'd glyster,
*' And so, I kiss your hand] Given to Constantia in both the foHos. " This certainly belongs to Frederick. 'Tis the usual conipliraent from a gentleman to a lady, but not from a lady to a gentleman ; and ./ohu confirms it ))y desiring the same favour." Skward.
SCENE II.] THE CHANCES. 265
Only of sand and 8now;;^ater, gentlemen, Has almost scour'd my guts out.
Stir. I have given you that, sir, Is fittest for your state.
Ant. And here he feeds me With rotten ends of rooks and drowned chickens, Stew'd pericraniums and pia-maters ; And when I go to bed (by Heaven, 'tis true, gentlemen,) He rolls me up in lints, wath labels at 'em, That I am just the man i' the almanack, — " In" head and face is Aries'" place."
Sta\ Will't please you^ To let your friends see you open'd ?
Ant. Will 't please you, sir. To let me have a wench ? I feel my body Open enough for that yet.
Sur. How ! a wench !
Ant. Why, look ye, gentlemen, thus I am us\l still ; I can get nothing that I want.
Fii'st Gent. Leave these things, And let him open you.
Aiit. Do you hear, surgeon 'I Send for the music ; let me have some pleasure To entertain my friends, (beside your salads % Your green salves, and your searches^,) and some wine too,
'^ /«] Changed by Seward to "My" (which had been previously given by the Duke of Buckingham in his alteration of this play) ; and so the other modern editors, — most improperly. Antonio means that the "labels" make hira resemble the figure we find in old almanacks, — a man surrounded by the 12 signs of the zodiac, each sign being placed beside that part of the body which it governs, and each having a "label", from "Aries, the head and face", io " Pisces, the feet." Probably the very words of this line are (quoted from some almanack.
>■ you] Weber silently printed "you, sir."
' salads] " What Antonio means by ' salads ' is explained by a passage in the third act of Monsieur Thomas, whore the [First] physician attending Fi'ancisco says —
' Bring in the letlicc-cap. — Vou must be shav'd, sir, And then how suddenly we'll make you sleep !' " Mason. And see note, vol. i. 187.
* searches'] i. c. tents or probes. — Seward, with the ai>proba(iou of Sympson, printed " sear-cloths " ; and Mason says " we should read ' scarccs ', fine sieves used in preparing medicines " !
266 THE CHANCES. [ vci iii.
That I may only smell to it ; or, by this light, I '11 die upon thy hand, and spoil thy custom.
First Gent. Let him have music.
Sur. 'Tis i' the house, and ready,
Enter Rowland with zcine, and Musicians.
If he will ask no more. But wine
Sec. Gent. He shall not drink it.
Sur. ^Vill these things please you I
Ant. Yes ; and let 'era sing Jolm Dory.
Sec. Gent. "'TIS too long.
Ant. I '11 have John Dory ; For to that warlike tune I will be open'd.-— Give me some drink. — Have you stopt the leaks well, surgeon \ All will run out else.
Sur. Fear not.
Ant. Sit down, gentlemen. — And now advance your plasters. \^Song of John Dory ''.
'' Song of John Dory] Has been already mentioned : see note, vol. ii. 163
" This song was so popular in the seventeenth century, that a reference to it was sufficient in the folios. As it has not retained its popularity till the present time, it seems necessary to subjoin it. It is given with the music in Hawkins's History of Music^ [v.. 474], and Ritson's Ancient Songs [p. 163], from [Ravenscroft's] Deuteromelia : or the Second Fart of Musicks Melodie, or Melodious Musicke, Of pleasant Roundelaies ; K. H. [King Henry'' s] Mirth or Freemens Sotigs, and such delightful Catches. Lond. 1609. 4to, where it is ranked among the ' Freemens Songs of 3 voices.'
' As it fell on a holy day,
And upon an holy tide-a, John Dory bought him an ambling nag,
To Paris for to ride-a.
And when John Dory to Paris was come,
A little before the gate-a, John Dory was fitted, the porter was witted
To let him in thereat-a.
The first man that John Dory did meet
Was good King John of France-a ; Jolm Dory could well of his courtesie,
But fell down in a trance-a,
A pardon, a pardon^ my liege and my king. For my nierio men and for mc-a ;
SCENE 11.] THE CHANCES. 267
Give 'em ten shillings, friends.
[Exeunt Rowland and Musicians. How do ye find me ? What symptoms do you see now ?
Sur. None, sir, dangerous ; But, if you will be rul'd
Ant. What time?
Sur. I can cure you In forty days, so you will not transgress me'^.
Ant. I have a dog shall lick me whole in twenty. In how long canst thou kill me I
Sur. Presently.
Ant. Do it ; there 's more dehght in 't.
And all the cliurles in merie England, He bring them all bound to thee-a.
And NichoU was then a Cornish man,
A little beside Bohide-a ; And he mande forth a good blacke barke,
With fiftie good oares on a side -a.
Run up, my boy, unto the maine top,
And lookc what thou canst spie-a. Who ho ! who ho ! a goodly ship I do see,
I trow it be John Dory-a.
They hoist their sailes, both top and top,
The meisseine and all was tride-a ; And every man stood to liis lot,
Whatever should betide-a.
The roring cannons then were plide,
And dub a duTj went the drumme-a ; The braying trumpets lowd they cride.
To courage both all and some-a.
The grapling hooks were brought at length,
The browne bill and the sword-a : John Dory at length, for all his strength,
Was clapt fast under board-a.'
Cai-ew, in his Survey of Cornwall, Land. 1602, 4to., observes, that 'the prowesse of one Nicholas, sonne to a widdow, neer Foy, is deskanted upon in an old three-man's song, namely, how he fought brauely at sea with John Dory (a Genowey, as I coniecture), set forth by John the French king, and (after much bloudshcd on both sides) tooke and slew him, in reueuge of the great rauine and crueltic which hee had forecommitted upon the Englishmeus goods and bodies, [p. 135. ed. 176f)]."' Weueu. ''- transgress »hc] Sec note, i'. '2JH.
268 THE CHANCES. [act in.
First Gent. You must have patience.
Ant. Man, I must have business : this foolish fellow Hinders himself ; I have a dozen rascals To hurt within these five days. — Good man-mender, Stop me up with some parsley*^, Hke stuff' d beef, And let me walk abroad
Sur. You shall walk shortly.
Ant. For I must find Petruchio.
Sec. Gent. Time enough.
First Gent. Come, lead him in, and let him sleep. — Within these three days We '11 beg you leave to play.
Sec. Gent. And then how things fall We '11 certainly inform you.
Ant. But, surgeon, promise me I shall drink wine then too.
Sur. A little temper'd.
Ant. Nay, I '11 no tempering, surgeon.
Sur. Well, as 't please you. So you exceed not.
Ant. Farewell : and, if ye find The mad slave that thus slash'd me, commend me to him, And bid him keep his skin close.
First Gent. Take your rest, sir. [E.veunf.
SCENE III. — A room in the house o/'Gilliax.
Enter Constantia and Gillian.
Con. I have told you all I can, and more than yet Those gentlemen know of me ; ever trusting Your counsel and concealment ; for to me You seem a worthy woman, one of those Are seldom found in our sex, wise and virtuous. Direct me, I beseech you.
Gillian. You say well, lady ;
•' Slop vievp ivith some parskij] So the Editors of 1778 and Weber.— The first folio has " Stop me up with parsley ". The second reads " Slop me tvith some parsley " ; and so Seward.
/
SCENE III.] THE CHANCES. ^C.)
And hold you to that point ; for, in these businesses,
A woman's counsel, that conceives the matter,
(Do you mark me? that conceives the matter, lady,)
Is worth ten men's engagements : she knows something,
A nd out of that can work like wax ; when men
Are giddy-headed, either out of wine,
Or a more di'unkenness, vain ostentation,
Discovering all ; there is no more keep in 'em
Than hold upon an eel's tail ; nay, 'tis held fashion
To defame now all they can.
Co7i. Ay, but these gentlemen
Gillian. Do not you trust to that ; these gentlemen Are, as all gentlemen, of the same barrel, Ay, and the self-same pickle too. Be it granted They have usM you with respect and fair behaviour Yef since you came ; do you know what must follow I They are Spaniards, lady, jennets of high mettle. Things that will thrash the devil or his dam. Let 'em appear but cloven —
Con. Now Heaven bless me !
Gillian. Mad colts will court the wind""; I know \in, lady, To the least hair they have ; and I tell you, Old as I am, let but the pint-pot bless *em. They '11 offer to my years
Con. How !
Gillian. Such rude gambols
Con. To you !
Gillian. Ay, and so handle me, that oft I am forc'd To fight of all four for my safety. There 's the younger, Don John, the arrant'st Jack in all this city : Tiie other time has blasted, yet he will stoop, If not o'erflown, and freely, on the quarry s ;
" Yef] So the first folio.— The second folio " Ere " ; and so Seward and the Editors of 1778 ("E'er").
' They are Spaniards, lady, jennets of high mettle,
Mad colts will court the wind] See note, vol. v. 273. B stoop
. on the quarry] i. e. descend on the game or prey ;
270 THE CHANCES. [act in.
H'as been a dragon in liis days : but, Tarmont'', Don Jenkin is the devil himself, the Dog-days, The most incomprehensible whoremaster. Twenty a night is nothing ; beggars, broom-women, And those so miserable they look like Famine, Are all sweet ladies in his drink.
Con. He 's a handsome gentleman ; Pity he should be master of such follies.
Gillian. He 's ne'er without a noise of syringes In's pocket, (those proclaim him,) birding-pills', Waters, to cool his conscience, in small vials, With thousand such sufficient emblems : the truth is, Whose chastity he chops upon he cares not ; He flies at all. Bastards, upon my conscience. He has now in making, multitudes ; the last night He brought home one ; I pity her that bore it ; But we are all weak vessels ; some rich woman (For wise I dare not call her) was the mother, For it was hung with jewels, the bearing-clothJ No less than crimson velvet.
Con. How !
Gillian. 'Tis true, lady.
Con. Was it a boy too ?
Gillian. A brave boy ; deliberation And judgment shew'd in ""s getting ; as, I '11 say for him. He 's as well-pacM for that sport — *—
Con. May I see it ? For there is a neighbour of mine, a gentlewoman, Has had a late mischance, which willingly I would know further of : now, if you please To be so courteous to me
terms of falconry, which have several times occuri'ed before ; see, for instance, notes, vol. vi. 12, vol. ii. 554.
^ Tarmonf] i. e., I presume, by Termagant. See note, vol. ii. 306.
' hirding-pills'] i. e., I suppose, pills to cure the consequences of birdiiig (wenching). — Altered by Seward to " purging-;5!7/s."
J the hearing-clolh\ " This, as Dr. Percy observes [note on Shakespeare's Winter^ s Tale, act iii. sc. 3], 'is the fine mantle or cloth with which a child is usually covered, when it is carried to the church to be baptized ' [or wlien it is shown among the gossips by the nui-se]." Weber.
SCENE IV.] THE CHANCES. 271
Gillian. You shall see it. But what do you think of these men, now you know 'em, And of the cause I told you of I Be wise ; You may repent too late else ; I but tell you For your own good, and as you will find it, lady.
Con. I am advisM.
Gillian. No more words, then ; do that, And instantly, I told you of ; be ready. — • Don John, I'll fit you for your frumps '\ \_Aside.
Con. I shall be : But shall I see this child ?
Gillian. Within this half-hour. Let 's in, and there think better : she that's wise Ticaps at occasion first ; the rest pay for it. \_Excnnf.
SCENE IV.— r/ie country.
Enter Petruchio, Don John, and Don Frederick.
John. Sir, he is worth your knowledge, and a gentleman (If I that so much love him may commend him) Of free and virtuous parts ; and one, if foul play Should fall upon us (for which fear I brought him), Will not fly back for fillips.
Petru. Ye much honour me. And once more I pronounce ye both mine.
Fred. Stay ; what troop Is that below i' the valley there ?
John. Hawking, I take it. '
Petru. They are so : 'tis the duke; 'tis even he, gentlemen.— Sirrah, draw back the horses till we call you. —
' ~" [To Servant within.
I know him by his company.
Fred. I think too He bends up this way.
Petru. So he does.
John. Stand you still Within that covert till I call. You, Frederick,
^ frumps'] i. e. mocks, flouts.
272 THE CHANCES. [act hi.
By no means bo not seen, unless they offer
To bring on odds upon us. He comes forward ;
Here will I wait him fairly. To your cabins !
Petru. I need no more instruct you ?
John. Fear me not ; I '11 give it him, and boldly. \^Exeunt Petruchio and Frederick. Enter Duke and Gentlemen.
Duke. Feed the hawks up ; We '11 fly no more to-day.— Oh, my blest fortune ! Have I so fairly met the man ?
John. You have, sir ; And him you know by this. [Points to his hat.
Duke. Sir, all the honour And love
John. I do beseech your grace stay there (For I know you too now) ; that love and honour I come not to receive ; nor can you give it, Till you appear fair to the world. I must beseech you, Dismiss your train a little.
Duke. Walk aside, And out of hearing, I command ye. [E.veunt Gentlemen.
Now, sir?
John. Last time we met, I was a friend.
Duke. And nobly You did a ' friend's office : let your business Be what it may, you must be still
John. Your pardon ; Never a friend to him cannot be friend To his own honour.
Duke. In what have I transgressM it ? You make a bold breach at the first, sir.
Johji. Bolder, You made that breach that let in infamy And ruin, to surprise a noble stock.
Duke. Be plain, sir.
John. I will, and short : you have i^Tong'd a gentleman. Little behind yourself, beyond all justice, Beyond [the] mediation of all friends.
' did a] Sewai'd silently printed " did me a''.
SCENE iv] THE CHAN'CES. 273
Duke. The man, and manner of wrong ?
John. Petruchio ; The wrong, you have whor'd his sister.
Duke. What's his will in 't I
John. His will is to oppose you like a gentleman, And, single, to decide all.
Duke. Now stay you, sir, And hear me with the like beUef. This gentleman His sister 1 that you nam'd, 'tis true I have long lov'd, Nor was that love lascivious, as he makes it ; As true, I have enjoy'd her ; no less truth, I have a child by her : but that she, or he. Or any of that family are tainted, Suffer disgrace or ruin by my pleasures, I wear a sword to satisfy the world no, And him in this cause when he please ; for know, sir, She is my wife, contracted before Heaven (Witness I owe more tie to than her brother) ; Nor will I fly from that name, which long since Had had the church's approbation, But for his jealous danger'".
John. Sir, your pardon ; And all that was my anger, now my service.
Duke. Fair sir, I knew I should convert you. Had we But that rough man here now too
John. And you shall, sir. — Whoa, hoa, hoo !
Duhe. I hope you have laid no ambush I
John. Only friends.
Re-enter Petruchio.
Duke. My noble brother ! welcome ! Come, put your anger off; we '11 have no fighting,
' This gentleman
His sister'\ " i. e. this gentleman's sister." Mason.
" his jealous danger'] Was rightly expkiiied by Seward " the danger arising from his jealousy " ; yet, on account of " what the Duke says to Petruchio below ", he gave in the text, with Sympson's concurrence, " his jealous anger" ; and so the Editors of 1778 ! VOL. VII. T
274 THE CHANCES. [act in.
Unless you will maintain I am unworthy To bear that name.
Petru. Do you speak this heartily ?
Duke. Upon my soul, and truly : the first priest Shall put you out of these doubts.
Petru. Now I love you ; And I beseech you pardon my suspicions : You are now more than a brother, a brave friend too.
John. The good man 's over-joy'd.
Re-enter Frederick.
Freeh How now I how goes it I
John. Why, the man has his mare again, and alFs well, Frederick ; The duke professes freely he 's her husband.
Fred. 'Tis a good hearing.
John. Yes, for modest gentlemen. I must present you. — May it please your grace To number this brave gentleman, my friend And noble kinsman, amongst those your servants.
Duke. Oh, my brave friend, you shower your bounties on me ! Amongst my best thoughts, signior ; in which number You being worthily dispos'd already, May place your friend to honour me.
Fred. My love, sir, And, where your grace dares trust me, all my service.
Petru. Why, this is wondrous happy. But now, brother. Now comes the bitter to our sweet : Constantia
Duke. Why, what of her I
Petru. Nor what, nor where, do I know : Wing'd with her fears, last night, beyond my knowledge, She quit my house ; but whither
Fred. Let not that
Duke. No more, good sir ; I have heard too much.
Petru. Nay, sink not ; She cannot be so lost.
John. Nor shall not, gentlemen : Be free again ; the lady 's found. That smile, sir. Shews you distrust your servant.
SCENE v.] THE CHANCES. 275
Duke. I do beseech you
John. You shall believe me : by my soul, she is safe —
Duke. Heaven knows, I would believe, sir.
Fred. You may safely.
John. And under noble usage : this fair gentleman Met her in all her doubts last nighty and to his guard (Her fears being strong upon her) she gave her person, Who waited on her to our lodging ; where all respect, Civil and honest service, now attend her.
Petru. Y^ou may believe now.
Duke. Yes, I do, and strongly. — Well, my good friends, or rather my good angels (For ye have both preserv'd me), when these virtues Die in your friend's remembrance
John. Good your grace. Lose no more time in compliment ; 'tis too precious : I know it by myself, there can be no hell To his that hangs upon his hopes, especially In way of lustly pleasures.
Petru. He has hit it.
Fred. To horse again, then ; for this night I '11 crown With all the joys ye wish for.
Petru. Happy gentlemen ! [Exeunt.
SCENE v.; — Another part of the country.
Enter Francisco. Fran. This is the maddest mischief: never fool Was so fubb'd off as I am ; made ridiculous, And to myself mine own ass. Trust a woman ! I '11 trust the devil first ; for he dare be Better than 's word sometime. What faith have I broke ? In what observance faiPd \ let me consider ; For this is monstrous usage.
Enter Don John and Don Frederick. Fred. Let them talk ; We '11 ride on fair and softly.
T 2
276 THE CHANCES. [act hi.
Fran. Well, Constantia
Fred. Constantia ! — What's this fellow ? stay, by all means.
Fran. You have spun yourself a fair thread now.
Fred. Stand still, John.
Fran. What cause had you to fly ? what fear possess'd you ? Were you not safely lodg'd from all suspicion I UsM with all gentle means 1 did any know How you came thither, or what your sin was ? —
Fred. John, I smell some juggling, John.
John. Yes, Frederick ; I fear it will be found so.
Fran. So strangely, Without the counsel of your friends, so desperately, To put all dangers on you ! —
Fred. 'Tis she.
Fran. So deceitfully. After a stranger's lure ! —
John. Did you mark that, Frederick ?
Fran. To make you appear more monster, and the law More cruel to reward you ! to leave all, All that should be your safeguard, to seek evils ! Was this your wisdom l this your promise ? Well, He that incited you — ^ —
Fred. Mark that too.
John. Yes, sir.
Fran. Had better have plough'd farther off. Now, lady, What will your last friend, he that should preserve you, And hold your credit up, the brave Antonio, Think of this slip ? he '11 to Petruchio, And call for open justice.
Jolin. 'Tis she, Frederick.
Fred. But what that he is, John
Fran. I do not doubt yet To bolt you out ; for I know certainly You are about the town still. Ha ! no more words. [Exit.
Fred. ^Vell !
John. Very well !
Fred. Discreetly —
SCENE v.]
THE CHANCES. 277
John. Finely carried !
Fred. You have no more of these tricks ?
Jolm. Ten to one, sir, I shall meet with 'em, if you have.
Fred. Is this honest ?
John. Was it in you a friend's part to deal double ? I am no ass, Don Frederick.
Fred. And, Don John, It shall appear I am no fool. Disgrace me, To make yourself a lecher ! 'tis boyish, 'tis base.
John. 'Tis false, and most unmanly to upbraid me ; Nor will I be your bolster, sir.
Fred. Thou wanton boy, thou hadst better have been eunuch, Thou common woman's courtesy, than thus Lascivious, basely to have bent mine honour. A friend ! I '11 make a horse my friend first.
John. Holla, holla ! You kick too fast, sir : what strange brains have you got. That dare crow out thus bravely ! I better been an eunuch ! I privy to this dog-trick ! Clear yourself, (For I know where the wind sits,) and most nobly. Or, as I have a life [^ noise of horses within.
Fred. No more ; — they 're" horses ; — Nor shew no discontent : to-morrow comes. Let 's quietly away. If she be at home, Our jealousies are put off'.
John. The fellow, we Have lost him in our spleens, like fools.
Enter Duke and Petruchio.
Duke. Come, gentlemen. Now set on roundly : suppose ye have all mistresses, And mend your pace according.
Petru. Then have at ye ! ^Exeunt.
» they Ve] Seward silently printed " their" ; and so the Editors of 1778 ; — an alteration, which Weber disapproves of, but which I have felt strongly inclined to adopt.
278 THE CHANCES. [act
ACT IV.
SCENE I. — Bologna. — Street before the house o/'Gillian.
Enter Duke, Petruchio, Don Frederick, and Don John.
Petru. Now to Bologna, my most honourM brother, I dare pronounce you a hearty and safe welcome : Our loves shall now way-lay you. — Welcome, gentlemen.
John. The same to you, brave sir. — Don Frederick, Will you step in, and give the lady notice Who comes to honour her I
Petru. Bid her be sudden : We come to see no curious wench ; a night-gown Will serve the turn : here 's one that knows her nearer.
Fred. I '11 tell her what you say, sir. \^Exit into the house.
Duke. My dear brother, You are a merry gentleman.
Petru. Now will the sport be, To observe her alterations ; how like wildfire She '11 leap into your bosom ; then seeing me, Her conscience and her fears creeping upon her, Dead, as a fowl at souse", she'll sink.
Duke. Fair brother, I must entreat you
Petru. I conceive your mind, sir ; I will not chide her : yet, ten ducats, duke, She falls upon her knees ; ten more, she dare not —
Buke. I must not have her frighted.
Petru. Well, you shall not : But, like a summer's evening against heat, Mark how I '11 gild her cheeks.
Re-enter Don Frederick with Peter. John. How now ?
" ul souse'] i. c. at tlie stroke of auotlur bird descending violently on it.
SCENE I.J THE CHANCES. 279
Duke. You may, sir.
Fred. Not to abuse your patience '', noble friends, Nor hold ye off with tedious circumstance ; For you must know —
Pctru. What?
Duke. Where is she ?
Fred. Gone, sir.
Duke. How I
Petru. What did you say, sir ?
Fred. Gone, by Heaven ; removM ! The woman of the house too
John. Well, Don Frederick !
Fred. Don John, it is not well ; but
Petru. Gone !
Fred. This fellow Can testify I lie not.
Peter. Some four hours after My master was departed with this gentleman, My fellow and myself being sent of business, (As we must think, of purpose)
Petru. Hang these circumstances ! They appear like owls, to ill ends.
John. Now could I eat
p Johu. How now i
Duke. You may, sir.
Fred. Not lo abuse your patience, &c.] In both tlie folios thus ;
" John, How now ?
Fred. Ye may, sir : Not to^abuse your patience ", &c. and so the Editors of 1778 and Weber. — In assigning " You may, sir " to the Duke, I have followed Seward, who remarks, " I have ventured to give the three first words of Frederick's speech to the Duke : they ai'e a proper answer to Petruchio, but arc not intelligible in Frederick's mouth, without considering them as a broken sentence relating to the mutual suspicion between John and him, and then perhaps too much would be left wanting : " and Mason approves of the change made here by Seward. The Editors of 1778 observe, "Mr. Seward has, we think, interpreted the words right in the place they stood at first, though he has changed tliat place " ; and Weber has a note to the same effect. To me it appears that in Frederick's mouth the words have no mean- ing at all.
280 THE CHANCES. [act iv.
The devil in his own broth, I am so tortur'd ! [Aside.
Gone !
Petru. Gone !
Fred. Directly gone, fled, shifted : What would you have me say ?
Buke. Well, gentlemen, Wrong not my good opinion.
Fred. For your dukedom I will not be a knave, sir.
John. He that is, A rot run in his blood !
Petru. But hark ye, gentlemen ; Are ye sure ye had her here ? did ye not dream this I
John. Have you your nose, sir ?
Petru. Yes, sir.
John. Then we had her.
Petru. Since you are so short, believe your having her Shall suffer more construction.
John. Let it suffer : But, if I be not clear of all dishonour. Or practice "^i that may taint my reputation, And ignorant of where this woman is, Make me your city's monster !
Duke. I believe you.
John. I could lie with a witch now, to be reveng'd Upon that rascal did this ! [Aside.
Fred. Only thus much I would desire your grace (for my mind gives me, Before night yet she is yours), — stop all opinion. And let no anger out, till full cause call it ; Then every man's own works to justify him ! And this day let us give to search. My man here Tells me, by chance he saw out of a window (Which place he has taken note of) such a face As our old landlady's, he believes the same too. And by her hood assures it : let 's first thither ; For, she being found, all 's ended.
1 pracliccl Sec note, p. 28,
SCENE II.] THE CHANCES. 281
Duke. Come, for Heaven's sake ! — And, Fortune, an thou be'st not ever turning, If there be one firm step in all thy reelings, Now settle it, and save my hopes. — Away, friends ! YExeiuit.
SCENE \l.— Another street.
Enter Antonio and Servant ' .
Ant. With all my jewels ?
Serv. All, sir.
Ant. And that money I left i' the trunk ?
Serv. The trunk broke, and that gone too.
Ant. Francisco of the plot l
Serv. Gone with the wench too.
Ant. The mighty pox go with 'em ! Belike they thought 1 was no man of this world, and those trifles Would but disturb my conscience.
Serv. Sure, they thought, sir, You would not live to persecute 'em.
Ant. Whore and fiddler ! Why, what a consort ' have they made ! hen and bacon ! ^Vell, my sweet mistress, well, good madam Mar-tail, You that have hung about my neck and lick'd me, I '11 try how handsomely your ladyship
Can hang upon a gallows ; there *s your master-piece. ■
But, hark you, sirrah ; no imagination Of where they should be ' i
Serv. None, sir ; yet we have search'd All places we suspected. I believe, sir, They have taken towards the ports.
■■ Servant] Should perhaps be " Rowland " : see p. 26C.
" consorl] " One of the many quibbles in old writings on concert and consort, which were anciently spelt with the same letters." Weber.
' Of where they should be] " In the first folio there is here a direction for the prompter to see that the Bawd is ready for the next scene, in these words — ' Bawd ready above '." Weuer.
282 THE CHANCES. [aci iv.
Ant. Get me a conjurer, One that can raise a water-devil : I '11 port 'em. Play at duck and drake with my money ! Take heed, fiddler ; I '11 dance you, by this hand ; your fiddle-stick I '11 grease of a new fashion, for presuming
To meddle with my de-gamboys. " Get me a conjurer ;
Inquire me out a man that lets out devils. — None but my C cliff" serve your turn !
Sei'v. I know not
Ant. In every street, Tom Fool ; any blear-ey'd people, With red heads and flat noses, can perform it : Thou shalt know'em by their half-gowns and no breeches. — Mount my mare, fiddler ! ha, boy ! up at first dash ! Sit sure ; I '11 clap a nettle, and a smart one. Shall make your filly firk ; I will, fine fiddler ; I '11 put you to your plunge, boy. — Sirrah, meet me Some two hours hence at home ; in the mean time, Find out a conjurer, and know his price, How he will let his devils by the day out. I'll have 'em, an they be above ground. [^Exit.
Serv. Now, bless me, What a mad man is this ! I must do something To please his humour : such a man I '11 ask for, And tell him where he is ; but to come near him, Or have any thing to do with his Don Devils, I thank my fear, I dare not, nor I will not. [Exit.
SCENE III.— Another street.
Enter Duke, Petruciiio, Don Frederick, Don John, and Peter. Fred. Whither wilt thou lead us i Peter. 'Tis hard by, sir :
Enter a Servant icith bottles, and goes into a house. And ten to one this wine goes thither. Duke. Forward. Petru. Arc they grown so merry ?
" de-ffamboi/s] i. e. viol-dc-gambo. — The modern editors print "dc-gambos".
SCENE HI.] THE CHANCES. 283
Duke. 'Tis most likely She has heard of this good fortune, and determines To wash her sorrows off.
Peter, 'Tis so ; that house, sir, Is it : out of that window certainly I saw my old mistress''s face.
Petru. They are merry, indeed : \^Music within.
Hark ! I hear music too.
Buke. Excellent music.
John. Would I were even among 'em, and alone now, A pallet for the purpose in a corner, And good rich wine within me ! what gay sport Could I make in an hour now ! [^Aside.
Fred. Hark ! a voice too : Let 's not stir yet by any means.«
SONG^ [WITHIN].
Welcome, sweet liberty ! and, care, farewell !
I am mine own. She is twice damn'd that lives in hell,
When heaven is shewn. Budding beauty, blooming years, Were made for pleasui'e. Farewell, fears ! For now I am myself, mine own command, My fortune always in my hand.
John. Was this her own voice ?
Duke. Yes, sure.
Fred. 'Tis a rare one.
Duke. The song confirms her here too ; for, if ye mark it, It spake of liberty, and free enjoying The happy end of pleasure.
[Bawd appears at the xoindoic.
Peter. Look you there, sir : Do you know that head I
Fred. 'Tis my good landlady : I find fear has done all this.
John. She, I swear; And now do I know, by the hanging of her hood. She is parcel drunk ^^'. Shall we go in ?
' Soiif/] Found only in the second folio. * parcel drunk] i. e. partly drunk.
284 THE CHANCES. [act iv.
Duke. Not yet, sir.
Petru. No ; let 'em take their pleasure. Duke. When it is highest, AVe ""11 step in, and amaze 'em. [Mi^z'c] Peace ; more music. John. Tliis music murders me : what blood have I now !
[^Aside. Enter Francisco.
Fred. I should know that face.
John. By this light, "'tis he, Frederick, That bred our first suspicions ; the same fellow.
Fred. He that we overtook, and overheard too, Discoursing of Constantia.
John. Still the same. ^Exit Francisco into the house.
Now he sHps in.
Duke. What 's that ?
Fred. She must be here, sir : This is the very fellow, I told your grace We found upon the way, and what his talk was.
[Francisco appears at the lolndoic.
Petru. Why, sure, I know this fellow : yes, 'tis he ; Francisco, Antonio's boy, a rare musician ; He taught my sister on the lute, and is ever (She loves his voice so well) about her. Certain, Without all doubt, she is here ; it must be so.
John. Here ! that 's no question : what should our hen u' the game else Do here without her I If she be not here, (1 am so confident,) let your grace believe We two are arrant rascals, and have abus\l you. \
Fred. I say so too. [Bawd appears again at the window.
John. Why, there 's the hood again now, The card "^ that guides us ; I know the fabric of it,
"^ card'] Equivalent here to — mariner's compass : see note, p. 240. — Both the folios have " guai'd ". — " In either sense of the word, as a watch or sentinel, or as a fringe or hem of a garment, ' guard ' is intelligible in this place ; but sure 'tis not a very natural expression, and I have therefore ventured to dis- card it, to make I'oom for what I think a very happy conjecture of Mi". Symp- son's, ' card ', i. e. the chart or mariner's compass." Seward, — whose successors, rightly, I think, adopted Sympson's conjecture. Mason also approves of it ; but insists that " card" never means " the chart or mariner's compass," — an assertion which might be easily disproved by many passages of early writers.
SCENE III.] THE CHANCES. 285
And know the old tree of that saddle yet 'twas made of ; A hunting-hood ; observe it.
Duke. Who shall enter I
Petrii. I '11 make one.
John. I another.
Duke. But so carry it That all her joys flow not together.
John. If we told her Your grace would none of her ? —
Duke. By no means, signior ; 'Twould turn her wild, stark frantic.
John. Or assured her
Duke. Nothing of that stern nature >'. This you may, sir, — That the conditions of our fear yet stand On nice and dangerous knittings, or that a little I seem to doubt the child.
John. Would I could draw her To hate your grace with these things ! \^Aside.
Petru. Come, let 's enter. — And, now he sees me not, I '11 search her soundly. \_Aside.
Duke. Now luck of all sides !
[Exeunt Petruchio and John into the house.
Fred. Doubt it not. — More music ! [Music toithin.
Sure, she has heard some comfort.
Duke. Yes ; stand still, sir. [Song within^.
Fred. This is the maddest song !
Duke. Applied for certain To some strange melancholy she is loaden with.
[Clapping of a door icithin.
Fred. Now all the sport begins — hark !
Duke. They are amongst 'em: The fears now, and the shakings ! [Trampling above,
Fred. Our old lady (Hark how they run !) is even now at this instant Ready to lose her head-piece by Don John, Or creeping through a cat-hole.
'' Nothing of that stern naturc'\ So the second folio. — The first folio has " Nothing of that ? starve nature 7 "
' Song within] This song has not been preserved.
286 THE CHANCES. [act iv
Petru. \iuithm\ Bring 'em down : — And you, sir, follow me.
Duke. He 's angry with 'em : I must not suffer this.
John. \wifhiii\ Bowl down the bawd there, Old Erra Mater^ — You, Lady Lechery, For the good will I bear to the game, most tenderly Shall be led out, and lash'd.
Re-enter Petruchio, and Don John, with Second Constantia drunk., and "B^viFdi., followed hy Francisco.
Diike. Is this Constantia I Why, gentlemen, what do you mean ? is this she I
Sec. Con. I am Constantia, sir.
Ditke. A whore you are, sir.
Sec. Con. 'Tis very true ; I am a whore indeed, sir.
Vetru. She will not lie yet, though she steal.
Sec. Con. A plain whore. If you please to employ me.
Duke. And an impudent.
Sec. Con. Plain dealing now is impudence : — One, if you will, sir, can shew you as much sport In one half-hour, and with as much variety, As a far wiser woman can in half a year ; For there my way lies.
Duke. Is she not drunk too ?
Sec. Con. A little gilded o'er^\ sir : Old sack, old sack, boys !
Petru. This is saliant.
John. A brave bold quean !
Duke. Is this your certainty ? Do ye know the man ye wrong thus, gentlemen ? Is this the woman meant ?
Fred. No.
" Old Erra Mater"] See note, vol. iii. 81.
** A little gilded o'er] " The phrase of being gilded is frequently used to signify being drunk. In The Tempest [act v. sc. 1.], Alonzo says, ' And Trinculo is reeling ripe : where should they Find this grand liquor, that hath gilded 'em ? ' " Reed.
SCENE in.]
THE CHANCES. 287
Duke. That your landlady I John. I know not what to say. Duke. Am I a person To be your sport, gentlemen ? John. I do believe now certain
I am a knave ; but how or when
Duke. What are you \ Petru. Bawd to this piece of pie-meat. Bated. A poor gentlewoman That lies in town about law-business, An 't like your worships.
Petrii. You shall have law, believe it. Bau-d. I '11 shew your mastership my case. Petru. By no means ; I had rather see a custard. Bawd. ]My dead husband Left it even thus, sir ; —
John. Bless mine eyes from blasting ! I was never so frighted with a case.
Bawd. And so, sir
Petru. Enough ; put up, good velvet-head ''. Duke. What are you two now, By your own free confessions ?
Fred. What you shall think us ; Though to myself I am certain, and my life Shall make that good and perfect, or fall with it <•.
John. We are sure of nothing, Frederick, that's tlie truth on't: I do not think my name 's Don John, nor dare not Believe any thing that concerns me, but my debts, Nor those in way of payment. — Things are so carried, What to entreat your grace, or how to tell you We are, or we are not, is past my cunning ; But I would fain imagine we are honest, And, o' my conscience, I should fight in't.
■^ velvet-head'] Alluding, of course, to her velvet hood.
^ tcilh il] Here the Editors of 1778 very improperly put a break, as if the speech were imperfect ; and so Weber.
288 THE CHANCES. [act iv.
Duke. Thus, then ; For we may be all abus'd
Petru. 'Tis possible ; For how should this concern them ?
Duke. Here let 's part, Until to-morrow this time ; we to our way, To make this doubt out, and you to your way, Pawning our honours then to meet again : When, if she be not found
Fred. We stand engagM To answer, any worthy way we are call'd to.
Duke. We ask no more.
Sec. Con. Ye have done with us, then ?
Petru. No, dame.
Duke. But is her name Constantia ?
Petru. Yes ; a moveable Belonging to a friend of mine. — Come out, fiddler ; What say you to this lady ? be not fearful.
Fran. Saving the reverence of my master's pleasure, I say she is a whore, and that she has robbM him, Hoping his hurts would kill him.
Sec. Con. Who provok'd me ? Nay, sirrah Squeak, I '11 see your treble strings Tied up too ; if I hang, I '11 spoil your piping ; Your sweet face shall not save you.
Petru. Thou damn'd impudence, And thou dried devil ! — Where's the officer?
Peter. He 's here, sir.
Enter Officer. Petru. Lodge these safe, till I send for 'em : Let none come to ""em, nor no noise be heard Of where they are, or why. Away !
[E.vit Officer ivith Second Constantia, Bawd, a?id Francisco. John. By this hand, A handsome whore ! — Now will I be arrested, And brought home to this officer's. — A stout whore ! I love such stirring ware. — Pox o' this business !
SCENE I.] THE CHANCES. 289
A man must hunt out morsels for another, And starve himself! — A quick-ey'd whore, that's wildfire, And makes the blood dance through the veins like billows ! I will reprieve this whore. [Aside.
Duke. Well, good luck with ye !
Fred. As much attend your grace.
Petru. To-morrow, certain
John. If we out-live this night, sir.
Fred. Come, Don John, We have something now to do.
John. I am sure I would have.
Fred. If she be not found, we must fight.
John. I am glad on 't ; I have not fought a great while.
Fred. If we die
John. There 's so much money sav'd in lechery. [Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.— A street.
Erder Duke and Petruchio ; Vecchio at a zcindow above.
Duke. It should be hereabouts.
Petru. Your grace is right ; This is the house, I know it.
Fee. Grace ! [Aside.
Duke. 'Tis further, By the description we receiv'd.
Petru. Good my lord the duke, Believe me, for I know it certainly, This is the very house.
Fee. My lord the duke ! [Aside, and then withdraws.
Duke. Pray Heaven this man prove right now !
Petru. Believe it, he 's a most sufficient scholar, And can do rare tricks this way ; for a figure, Or raising an appearance, whole Christendom Has not a better : I have heard strange wonders of him.
VOL. VII. II
290 THE CHANCES. [act v.
Duke. But can he shew us where she is ?
Petru. Most certain ; And for what cause too she departed.
Duke. Knock, then ; For I am great with expectation, Till this man satisfy me..' I fear the Spaniards ; Yet they appear brave fellows : can he tell us ?
Petru. With a wet finger, whether they be false.
Duke. Away, then ! - Petru. Who 's within here ? {^Knocks.
Enter Vecchio.
Vec. Your grace may enter
Duke. How can he know me ?
Petru. He knows all.
Vec. And you, sir, \_Exeunt into the house.
SCENE IL— Another street.
Enter Don John and Don Frederick.
John. What do you call his name?
Fi-ed. Why, Peter Yecchio.
John. They say he can raise devils : can he make 'era Tell truth too when he has rais'd 'em ? for, believe it, These devils are the lying'st rascals !
Fred. He can compel 'em.
John. With what ? Can he tie squibs in their tails, and fire the truth out ? Or make 'em eat a bawling Puritan,' Whose sanctified zeal shall rumble like an earthquake ?
Fred. With spells, man.
John. Ay, with spoons as soon. Dost thou think The devil such an ass as people make him I Such a poor coxcomb l such a penny foot-post I Compell'd with cross and pile^' to run of errands ? With Asteroth, and Behemoth, and Belfagor I
' cross and pile] Properly, the uame of a game (equivalent to— heads or tails).
scEiNE IT. J THE CHANCES. 291
Why should he shake at sounds that lives in a smith's forge I Or, if he do
Fred. Without all doubt he does, John.
John. Why should not bilbo ''raise him, or a pair of bullions?? They go as big as any ; or an unshod car. When he goes tumble, tumble, o'er the stones. Like Anaereon's drunken verses, make him tremble'' I These make as fell a noise. Methinks the colic, Well handled, and fed with small-beer
Fred. 'Tis the virtue
John. The virtue ! nay, an goodness fetch him up once, H'as lost a friend of me ; the wise old gentleman Knows when, and how. I '11 lay this hand to two-pence, Let all the conjurers in Christendom, With all their spells and virtues, call upon him,
' bilbo] i. c. sword.
6 bullions] Again in Fletcher's Beggars^ Bush, act iv. sc. 4, we have " blister'd bullions " ; and the word is occasionally used by other early writers. In a note on Massinger's Fatal Dowry, Works, iii. 3^'0, ed. 1813, GifFord remarks ; " The Bullion seems to be a piece of finery, which derived its deno- mination from the large globular gilt buttons, still in use on the continent (particularly in Holland), and of which a diminutive specimen may yet be seen on the clothes of our children " : and in a note on Jonson's Devil is an Ass, Works, v. 89, he observes ; " It appears to be some article (trunk-hose or doublet) of spurious finery, furnished with globular gilt buttons", &c. " ^j^/- /ion ", says Nares, "besilcs its usual signification of gold or silver uncoined, meant also, according to the old dictionaries, ' copper-plates set on the breast- leathers or bridles of horses, for ornaments.' I suspect that it also meant, in colloquial use, copper lace, tassels, and ornaments in imitation of gold. Hence contemptuously attributed to those who affected a finery above their station." He then quotes the passages (above alluded to) from The Devil is an Ass, The Beggars' Bush, and The Fatal Dowry ; and, immediately after, gives as a separate article [! !], " Bullyons, a pair of. Qy. Pistols," citing the present passage of The Chances.
To me it appears that, in their attempts to explain bullions when applied to dress, Giff'ord and Nares have been misled by connecting the word with bullion (uncoined gold or silver). Bullions, I apprehend, mean some sort of hose or breeches, which were boiled or bulled, i. e. swelled, puff"ed out (—in Jonson's Sad Shepherd, act i, sc. 2, we find, " And hang the bulled nosegays 'bove their heads") : hence the epithet applied to them in The Beggars' Bush, " blister'd ".
^ make him tremble] Mason's correction, and obviously necessary (" him ", i. e. the devil). — The first folio has " make us tremble " ; and so the Editors of 1778. The second folio omits these words ; and so Seward.
U 2
292 THE CHANCES. [act v.
And I but think upon a wench, and follow it,
He shall be sooner mine than theirs : where 's virtue ? 7
Fred. Thou art the most sufficient' (I '11 say for thee) Not to believe a thing— ^ —
John. Oh, sir, slow credit Is the best child of knowledge. I '11 go with you ; ; And, if he can do any thing, I '11 think * '
As you would have me.
Fi'ed. Let 's inquire along ; For certain we are not far off.
John. Nor much nearer. [^Exeunt.
SCENE III. — A room in the house o/'Vecchio.
Enter Dnke, Petruchio, and Vecchio.
Vec. You lost her yester-night.
Petru. How think you, sir ?
Duke. Is your name Vecchio I
Vec. Yes, sir.
Duke. And you can shew me These things you promise ?
Fee. Your grace's word bound to me, No hand of law shall seize me.
Duke. As I live, sir!
Petru. And as I live, that can do something too, sir !
Vec. I take your promises. Stay here a little, Till I prepare some ceremonies, and I '11 satisfy ye. The lady''s name's Constantia ?
Petru. Yes.
Vec. I come straight. \_E.rif.
Duke. Sure, he ""s a learned man.J^
Petru. The most now living. Did your grace mark, when we told all these circumstances, H ow ever and anon he^ bolted from us. To use his study's help ?
Duke. Now I think rather To talk with some familiar J.
' si/efficient] " i. e. self-sufficient." Mason. ^fatniliar'] i. e. attendant demon.
SCENE III.] THE CHANCES. 293
Fetru. Not unlikely ; For sure he has 'era subject.
Duke. How could he else Tell when she went, and who went with her ?
Petru. True.
Duke. Or hit upon mine honour' ? or assure nie The lady lov'd me dearly 1''
Fetru. 'Twas so.
Re-enter Vecchio, in his maaical hahiliments.
Vec. Now, I do beseech your grace, sit down ; and you, sir : Nay, pray, sit close, like brothers.
Petru. A rare fellow^ !
Vec. And what ye see, stir not at, nor use a word, Until I ask ye ; for what shall ap])ear Is but weak apparition and thin air, Not to be held nor spoken to.
Duke. We are counsell'd. [Knocking within.
Fee. What noise is that without there ?
F7'ed. [loitJihi] We must speak with him.
Serv. [xcitliin] He 's busy, gentlemen.
John, [loithin^ That 's all one, friend ; We must and will speak with him.
Duke. Let 'em in, sir : We know their tongues and business ; "'tis our own, And in this very cause that we now come for, They also come to be instructed.
Vec. Let 'em in, then. [To Servant ivithin.
Enter Don Frederick, Don John, and Servant.
Sit down ; I know your meaning.
Fi'ed. The duke before us [) Now we shall sure know something.
Vec. Not a question ; But make your eyes your tongues.
Julm. This is a strange juggler ; Neither indent before-hand for his payment,
J honour^ "i. e. rank and title." Ed. 1778.
294 THE CHANCES. [act v.
Nor know the breadth of the business ! Sure, his devil Comes out of Lapland, where they sell men winds For dead drink and old doublets. / Fred. Peace ; he conjures. John. Let him ; he cannot raise my devil. Fred. Prithee, peace. Vec. Appear, appear !
And you, soft winds, so clear, That dance upon the leaves, and make them sing Gentle love -lays to the spring, Gilding all the vales below With your verdure as ye blow, Raise these forms from under ground. With a soft and happy sound ! \,Soft music.
John. This is an honest conjui'er and a pretty poet : I like his words well ;_jjiere_^n£^pmbast_injeni. But do you think now he can cudgel up the devil With this short staff of verses ? Fred. Peace : the spirits.
Enter two Shapes of Women.
John. Nay, an they be no worse
Vec. Do ye know these faces 2
Duke. No.
Vec. Sit still, upon yourlives, then, and mark what follows.
Away, away ! [^Exeunt the tivo Shapes.
John. These devils do not paint, sure ? Have they no sweeter shapes in hell 1
Fred. Hark now, John.
Enter Constantia veiled. W John. Ay, marry, this moves something like ; this devil I Carries some mettle in her gait. Vec. I find you ; You would see her face unveil'd ? Duke. Yes.
Vec. Be uncovered. {She unveils.
Duke. Oh, Heaven ! Vec. Peace !
SCENE III.] THE CHANCES. 295
Petru. See how she bhishes !
John. Frederick, This devil for my money ; this is she, boy. Why dost thou shake ? I burn.
Vec. Sit still, and silent.
Duke. She looks back at me ; now she smiles, sir.
Vec. Silence !
Duke. I must rise, or I burst. [Exit Constantia.
Vec. You see what follows.
Duke. Oh, gentle sir, this shape again !
Vec. I cannot ; 'Tis all dissolvM again. This was the figure \
Duke. The very same, sir.
Petru. No hope once more to see it I
Vec. You might have kept it longer, had ye sparM it ; Now 'tis impossible.
Duke. No means to find it '^ ?
Vec. Yes, that there is : sit still a while ; there 's wine, To thaw the wonder from your hearts ; drink well, sir.
[ Exit.
John. This conjurer is a right good fellow too, I A lad of mettle ; two such devils more \ Would make me a conjurer. What wine is it ?
Fred. Hollock '.
John. The devil 's in it, then ; look how it dances ! Well, if I be '»
^ No means to find it] After these words Weber inserted a stage-direction, " Enter a Servant luith Wine ": but, surely, we may suppose that the wine which Vecchio recommends to his gue-ts was upon the table when they first entered.
' Ilollock] Altered by Seward to " Hock " ; and so his successors.— In Henderson's Hist, of Anc. and Mod. IVines, p. 312, the present passage is cited with the erroneous reading " Hock " ; but that elaborate work contains no account of hollock. The latter wine, however, is frequently mentioned by our early writers : so Taylor ;
" Hollock and Tent would be of small repute."
The Praise of Jlemp-seed, p. G.'), — fVorkes, ed. 1G30.
It probably means wine produced in Ilolach or Ilohcnlohe, a district in the circle of Franconia.
"» Wcll,ifl he ] So both the folios. The author, I apprehend, wrote,
" Well, if I he danni'd— '' : John has just said that the devil is in the wine.
296 THE CHANCES. [act v.
Petru. We are all before you, That 's your best comfort, sir.
John. By the mass, brave wine ! Nay, an the devils live in this hell, I dare venture Within these two months yet to be deliver'd Of a large legion of 'em.
Duke. Here he comes :
Re-enter Vecchio. Silence of all sides, gentlemen !
Vec. Good your grace. Observe a stricter temper ; and you too, gallants ; You 'll be deluded all else. ;^This merry devil That next appears (for such a one youll find it) Must be caird up by a strange incantation,— A song, and I must sing it : pray, bear with me, And pardon my rude pipe ; fqi'j;et, ere parting, Twenty to one I please ye. v
Duke. We are arm'd, sir.
Petru. Nor shall you see us more transgress.
Fred. What think'st thou Now, John ?
John. Why, now do I think, Frederick, (And, if I think amiss, Heaven pardon me !) This honest conjurer, uith some four or five Of his good fellow-devils, and myself, Shall be yet drunk ere midnight.
Fred. Peace ; he conjures.
SONG ".
Vecchio. Come away, thou lady gay ! — Hoist, how she stumbles ! Hark how she mumbles ! — Dame Gillian !
Gillian [within]. I come, I come.
Song^ " First appears in the second folio." Webeii.
'ENEiM.] THE CHANCES. 297
Vecchio. By old Claret I enlarge thee, By Canary thus I charge thee, By Britain Matthewgliu p, and Peter i, Appear, and answer me in meti-e !
Why, when ' I
Why, Gill !
Why, when?
Gillian [within]. Vou '11 tarry till I am ready.
Vecchio. Once again I conjure thee, By the pose * in thy nose. And the gout in thy toes ; By thine old dried skin, And the mummy within ; By thy little, little ruff, And thy hood that 's made of stuff ; By thy bottle at thy breech. And thine old salt itch ; By the stakes and the stones, That have worn out thy bones,
P Britain J\[atthewglin] i. e. British metheglin (compare a passage in the preceding play, p. 141, where "metheglin" is termed " a stout Briton"). — Seward altered " ]\latheicglin " to " Metheglin" ; and so his successors. But let us hear Taylor : — " The common appellation of the first [Metheglin] by the name of ]\fathnv Glinn, (although it seeme a Nick't name to the world,) is generally received by the History of Monmoth to be the Authours name of this Mellifluous mixture ; for this Mathew, dwelling in a Valley (for so the word Glinn imports Englished from the Welsh), being master of a very great stocke of Bees, and wanting vent for the issue of their labours in an abundant yeare, betooke himself wholy to his study, and being most ingenious in things of this nature, in a short time he profited so well, as out of his maternall or mother- wit, of himselfe he perfected this rare composure." Drinke and Welcome, &c. 1637, sig. A 3.
1 Peter'\ Which puzzled the modern editors — is an abbreviation of Peter- see-me, Peter-sameene (see Middleton's fVorks, iv. 142, iii. 213, ed. Dyce), ov Peter-semine, corruptions of the word Pedro-Ximenes. " The Pedro-Ximcnes - - - receives its name from a grape which is said to have been imported from the banks of tlie Rhine by an individual called Pedro Simon (corrupted to Ximen or Ximenes), and is one of the richest and most delicate of the Malaga wines, resembling very much the malmsey of Paxarcte." Henderson's Hist. of Anc. and Mod. IVines, p. 193.
' IVhi/, when ?J A common elliptical expression of impatience : see note, vol. V. 425.
' j)ose'\ " Is an old English word used by Chaucer [and not unfrequently by much later writei-s] for a cataiTh or defluxion of rheum." Skwarp.
298 THE CHANCES. [act v.
Appeal", Appear, Appear !
Gillian [within]. Oh, I am here !
John. Why, this is the song, Frederick. Twenty pound now, To see but our Don GilHan ! Fred. Peace ; it appears.
Enter Gillian carrying the Child.
John. I cannot peace : devils in French hoods, Frederick ! Satan's old syringes !
Buke. What 's this ?
Vec. Peace !
John. She, boy.
Fred. What dost thou mean I
John. She, boy, I say.
Fred. Ha!
John. She, boy ; The very child too, Frederick.
Fred. She laughs on us Aloud, John : has the devil these affections ? I do believe 'tis she, indeed.-
Vec. Standstill. (^
John. I will not : A^
" Who calls Jeronimo from his naked bed^? " ^ Sweet lady, \Yas it you ? if thou be'st the devil. First, having cross'd myself, to keep out wildfire, Then said some special prayers to defend me Against thy most unhallowM hood, have at thee !
Gillian. Hold, sir ! I am no devil
' " Who calls Jeronimo from his naked bed?"] A line made up fiora an often-ridiculed passage of Kyd's Spanish Tragedy (see note, vol. ii. 133) ;
" Enter Hieronimo in his skirt, &c. Hieronimo. What outcries pluck me from my naked bed, And chill my throbbing heart with trembling fear, Which never danger yet could daunt before ? IVho calls Hieronimo ? speak — here I am." (lu the first line several of the 4tos. have " What outcry calls me", &c).
Dodsley's Old Ploys, iii. 130, last ed.
^ oiNE III.] THE CHANCES. 299
John. That ""s all one.
Gillian. I am your very landlady.
Jolin. I defy thee : Thus, as St. Dunstan blew the devil's nose With a pair of tongs, even so, right worshipful
Gillian. Sweet son^ I am old Gillian.
Duke. This is no spirit.
Jolin. Art thou old Gillian, flesh and bone ?
Gillian. I am, son.
Vec. Sit still, sir; now I Ml shew you all. \_Exit..
John. Where ""s thy bottle ?
Gillian. Here, I beseech you, son
John. For I know the devil Cannot assume that shape.
Fred. ^Tis she, John, certain.
John. A hog''s pox o' your mouldy chaps ! what make you Tumbling and juggling here ?
Gillian. I am quit now, signior. For all the pranks you play'd, and railings at me ; For, to tell true", out of a trick I put Upon your high behaviours, (which was a lie, But then it serv'd my turn,) /T drew the lady Unto my kinsman's here, only to torture Your don-ships for a day or two, and secure her Out of all thoughts of danger. Here she comes now.
Re-enter Vecchio and Constantia.
Duke. May I yet speak ?
Vec. Yes, and embrace her too ; For one that loves you dearer
Duke. Oh, my sweetest !
Petru. Blush not ; I will not chide you.
Con. To add more Unto the joy I know I bring you, — see, sir. The happy fruit of all our vows !
Duke. Heaven's blessing Be round about thee ever !
John. Pray, bless me too ;
" due] Silently altered by Weber to " truth".
300 THE CHANCES. L^ct v.
For, if your grace be well instructed this way, You ^11 find the keeping half the getting.
Duke. How, sir ?
John. I '11 tell you that anon.
Con. 'Tis true, this gentleman Has done a charity worthy your favour ; And let him have it, dear sir.
Duke. My best lady, He has, and ever shall have. — So must you, sir, / To whom I am equal bound as to my being. j ^
Fred. Your grace's humble servant^'. ^
Duke. Why kneel you, sir ?
Vec. For pardon for my boldness ; yet 'twas harmless, And all the art I have, sir. Those your grace saw. Which you thought spirits, were my neighbours' children. Whom I instruct in grammar here and music ; Their shapes ^^ (the people's fond" opinions Believing I can conjure, and oft repairing To know of things stoln from 'em) I keep about me, And always have in readiness. By conjecture. Out of their own confessions, I oft tell 'em Things that by_chancj have_fa;ln out so ; which way (Having the persons here I knew you sought for) I wrought upon your grace. My end is mirth, And pleasing, if I can, all parties.
Duke. I believe it, For you have pleas'd me truly ; so well pleas'd me. That, when I shall forget it
Petru. Here's old Antonio, (I spied him at a window) coming mainly ; I know, about his whore ; the man you lights on, As you discover'd unto me. Good your grace,
' servant] So the second folio. — Tlie first folio "servants" ; and so Weber.
■" shapes] i. e. dresses (for disguise).
^ fond] i. e. foolish.
y light] i. e. lit (as several times before). The Editors of 1778 and Weber print "lit". — Mason says, " we should read —
" / knou\ about his whore, and the man you lit on," &c. — The words " the man you light on ", kc. are, of course, addressed to John and Frederick, " the man"' meaning Francisco.
sr-ENE nr.] THE CHANCES. 301
Let 's stand by all ; 'twill be a mirth above all To observe his pelting fury.
Vec. About a wench, sir ?
Petru. A young whore that has robb'd him.
Fee. But do you know, sir, Where she is I
Petrii. Yes, and will make that perfect.
Vec. I am instructed well, then.
John. If he come To have a devil shew'd'' him, by all means Let me be he ; I can roar rarely.
Petru. Be so ; But take heed to his anger.
Vec. Slip in quickly ; There you shall find suits of all sorts. When I call, Be ready, and come forward.
[Exeunt all except Vecchio. — Knocking within. Who's there? come in'».
Enter Antonio.
Ant. Are you the conjurer \
Fee. Sir, I can do a little That way, if you please to employ me.
Ant. Presently Shew me a devil that can tell
Fee. AVhcre your wench is.
Ant. You are i' the right ; as also where the fiddler That was consenting to her.
Vec Sit you there, sir ; You shall know presently. Can you pray heartily 'i
Ant. Why, is your devil so furious ?
Fee. T must shew you A form may chance aflfright you.
Ant. He must fart fire, then : Take you no cai'e for me.
' shetv'd] Silently altered to " shewn " by the Editors of 1 778 ; and so Weber.
* fVho 's there ? come in} So the first folio, except that it puts the interro- gation point at the end of these woi'ds. — The second folio has " Who's there comes in * " ; and so the modern editors ! !
302 THE CHANCES. [act v.
Vec. Ascend, Asteroth ! Why, when ? * appear, I say ! —
Re-enter Don John, disguised as a spirit.
Now question him.
Ant. Where is my whore, Don Devil ?
John. Gone to China, To be the Great Cham''s mistress.
Ant. That 's a he, devil- Where are my jewels ?
John. Pawn'd for petticoats.
Ant. That may be. Where 's the fiddler I
John. Condemn'd to the gallows For robbing of a mill.
Ant. The lying'st devil That e'er I dealt withal, and the unlikeliest ! — What was that rascal hurt me 1
John. I.
Ant. How !
John. T.
Ant. Who was he ?
John. I.
Ant. Do you hear, conjurer ? Dare you venture your devil ?
Vec. Yes.
A7it. Then I '11 venture my dagger^.
Have at your devil's pate ! \^AttacJis Don John, who throws off his disguise.^ Do you mew'' ?
Re-enter Duke, Constantia, Petruchio, Don Frederick, and
Gillian. Vec. Hold ! Petrii. Hold there ! I do command you hold ! Ant. Is this the devil 'I
W^hy, conjurer
Petru. H'as been a devil to you, sir ;
" Why, when?] See note, p. 297.
'" / 7/ venture my dagger, 4'c.] " Refers to the Vice of tlie old moralities, who [sometimes] belaboured the devil with a wooden dagger." Weber. "■• meio] i, e. cast your dress ; properly, moult ; see note, p. 1 77.
MENEiii.] THE CHANCES, 303
But now you shall forget all. Your whore 's safe, And all your jewels ; your boy too.
John. Now the devil indeed Lay his ten claws upon thee ! for my pate Finds what it is to be a fiend.
Ant. All '1 safe?
Petru. Pray you, know this person ; all ""s right now.
Ant. Your grace jNIay now command me, then. But where 's my whore ?
Petru. Ready to go to whipping.
Ant. My whore whipt !
Petru. Yes, your whore, without doubt, sir.
Ant. Whipt ! Pray, gentlemen
Duke. Why, would you have her once more rob you ? The young boy You may forgive ; he was entic'd.
John. The whore, sir, Would rather carry pity ; a handsome whore !
A7it. A gentleman, I warrant thee.
Petru. Let 's in all ; And, if we see contrition in your whore, sir, jNIuch may be done.
Dulic. Now, my dear fair, to you, \ \/ And the full consummation of my vow ! ' [Exeunt.
•' All] Weber chose to print " All 's ".
EPILOGUE.
We have not held you long ; nor do I see One brow in this selected company Assuring a disHke. Our pains were eas'd, Could we be confident that all rise pleasVl : But such ambition soars too hio-h : if we Have satisfied the best, and they agree In a fair censure S we have our reward, And, in them arm'd, desire no surer guard.
^ censure'] i. e. judgment, opinion.
MONSIEUR THOMAS.
Vol. vir.
Monslevr Thomas. A Corned//. Acted at the Private Bouse in Blacke Fryers. The Author, John Fletcher, Gent. London, Printed by Tliomas Harper, for John Waterson, and are to he sold at his shop in Pauls Church-yard, at the signe of the Crovne .- 1639. 4to.
In the folio of 1679.
This comedy was wholly from Fletcher's pen ; see The Dedication and verses prefixed to it by Broine. The date of its fii-st production on the stage is not knoviii.
Weber thinks that " the original idea of the plot of Valentine, Cellide, and Francisco, was probably borrowed from the celebrated novel of Tito and Gisippo in the last giornata of Boccaccio's Decameron."
Dmfey's Trick for Trick, or the Debauched Hypocrite, 1G78, is, as Langbaine observes, " only Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas reviv'd, though scarce at all acknowledg'd by our author." Ace. of Engl. Dram. Poets, p. 184. The "acknowledgment", such as it is, occurs in the following lines of the Epilogue, —
" On the foundation Fletcher laid he [i. e. Durfey] built, New drest his modish spark fit to be shown, And made him more debauch'd t' oblige the town ", Src.
TO THE
NOBLE HONOURER OF THE DEAD AUTHOR'S WORKS AND MEMORY, MASTER CHARLES COTTON*.
Sir. My directing of this piece unto you renders me obvious to many censures, which I would willingly prevent by declaring mine own and your right thereto. Mine was the fortune to be made the unworthy preserver of it : yours is the worthy opinion you have of the author and his poems ; neither can it easily be determined whether your affection to them hath made you, by observing, more able to judge of them, than your ability to judge of them hath made you to affect them deservedly, not partially. In this presumptuous act of mine I express my two-fold zeal ; to him, and your noble self who have built him a more honourable monument in that fair opinion you have of him than any inscription subject to the wearing of time can be. You will find him in this poem as active as in others, to many of which the dull apprehensions of former times gave but slender allowance, from malicious custom more than reason ; yet they have since, by your candid self and others, been clearly vindicated. You shall oblige by your acceptance of this acknowledgment (which is the best I can render you, mine own weak labours being too unworthy your judicious perusal) him that is ambitious to be known Your most humble servant,
Richard Brome''.
" Muster Charles Cotton'^ " Charles Cotton Esq., of Beresford in StaflFord- shire, was a geutlcman of considerable fortune. His cliaracter is drawn by Lord Clarendon in very favourable colours. The latter part of his life was rendered gloomy by some severe misfortunes. He died in 1658. He was father to the more celebrated person of the same name, who is well known for his burlesque poetry ; but whose miscellaneous poems deserve more attention than they have hitherto obtained." WEniiit.
'' Richard Urome^ See note (on the Commendatory Poems), vol. i. Ixv.
IN PRAISE OF THE AUTHORS AND HIS FOLLOWING POEM.
'Tis both the Hfe of action and of wit, When actors so the fancied humours hit, As if 'twixt them and th' author there were strife How each to other should give mutual life. The last this wanted not. Invention strays Here in full many pleasant turning ^vays, That, like meanders, their curPd circles bend, Yet in a smooth stream run to crown the end. Then 'tis authorizVl by the author's name, Who never writ but with such sprightly flame, As if the Muses jointly did inspire His raptures only with their sacred fire. And yet perhaps it did participate. At first presenting, but of common fate ; When Ignorance was judge, and but a few What was legitimate, what bastard, knew. The world 's grown wiser now : each man can say, If Fletcher made it, 'tis an excellent play. Thus poems, like their authors, may be said. Never to live till they have first been dead.
Richard Brome.
" In praise of the uiUhor, &c.] This copy of verses is found only in tlie 4to.
DRAMATIS PERSONiE.
Valentine.
Francisco'', his son.
Sebastian.
Thomas, his son.
Hylas.
Sam.
Michael.
Launcelot, sei'vant to Thomas.
Fiddler.
Three Physicians.
Apothecary, Bai'ber, Sailors, Officers, Servants.
Alice, sister to Valentine.
Mary, their niece.
Cellide, ward to Valentine.'
Dorothea, daughter to Sebastian.
Abbess of St. Katheriue's, aunt to Thomas and Dorothea.
Nuns.
Madge, Kate a blackamoor, and other Maids.
Scene — The neighbourhood of London, London, and the Sea-Coast.
ii •' This character is called Francisco, Francis, and Frank in the course of the play. " U'ebkr.
e See the last speech of Michael, p. 3t)2, and the speech of the Abbess, p. 41K). Cellidi; calls Alice "aunt", p. 331 ; and, if that tC-rm is to be understciud in its cuniiuon acceiitation, she is the uiece of her guaidiuu (and lover) Yaleatinu.
MONSIEUR THOMAS.
ACT I.
SCENE I. — A hall in the house o/* Valuntine.
Enter Alice and Valentine.
Alice. How dearly welcome you are !
Vol. I know it ; And, ray best sister, you as dear^ to my sight, And, pray, let this confirm it [_Kisses her"^. How you have
govern'd My poor state? in my absence, how my servants, I dare and must believe (else I should wrong you) The best and worthiest.
Alice. As my woman"'s wit, sir, Which is but weak and crazy.
Vah But, good Alice, Tell me how fares the gentle Cellide, The life of my affection, since ray travel, My long and lazy travel ? is her love still Upon the growing hand ? does it not stop And wither at ray years ? has she not view'd And entertain'd some younger smooth behaviour, Some youth but in his blossom, as herself is ? There lie'' my fears.
Alice. They need not ; for, believe me, So well you have managVl her, and won her mind,
' you as dear'\ So the 4to. — The folio " you arc «.s ilear " ; and so Sewaid.
*•' state'\ i. e. estate,
'' lie^ Old cds. " lyes " and " lies".
314 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act i.
Even from her hours of childhood to this ripeness, (And, in your absence, that by me enforc'd still,) So well distill'd your gentleness into her, Observ'd her', fed her fancy, liv'd still in her, And, though Love be a boy, and ever youthful. And young and beauteous objects ever aim'd at, Yet here you have gone beyond Love, better'd nature. Made him appear in years, in grey years fiery. His bow at full bent ever. Fear not, brother ; For, though your body has been far off from her, Yet every hour your heart, which is your goodness, I have forc'd into her, won a place prepar'd too. And willingly, to give it ever harbour : Believe she is so much yours, and won by miracle (Which is by age), so deep a stamp set on her By your observances, she cannot alter. Were the child living now you lost at sea Among the Genoa galleys, what a happiness ! What a main blessing !
Val. Oh, no more, good sister ! Touch no more that string ; 'tis too harsh and jarring. With that child all my hopes went, and, you know. The root of all those hopes, the mother too. Within few days.
Alice. 'Tis too true, and too fatal : But peace be with their souls !
Val. For her loss, I hope, the beauteous Cellidc
Alice. You may, sir, For all she is, is yours.
Val. For the poor boy^s loss, I have brought a noble friend I found in travel ; A worthier mind, and a more temperate spirit. If I have so much judgment to discern 'em, Man yet was never master of.
Alice. What is he ?
Val. A gentleman, I do assure myself,
' Obacrv'd her] i. e. obsequiously attended ou lier.
scENK I.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 31.i
And of a worthy breeding, though he hide it.
I found him at Valentia, poor and needy,
Only his mind the master of a treasure :
I sought his friendship, won him by much violence,
His honesty and modesty still fearing
To thrust a charge upon me. How I love him
He shall now know, where want and he hereafter
Shall be no more companions. Use him nobly ;
It is my will, good sister ; all I have
I make him free companion in and partner,
But only
Alice. I observe you ; hold your right there ; Love and high rule allow no rivals^, brother : He shall have fair regard and all observance.
Enter Hylas.
Hylus. You are welcome, noble sir.
Val. What, ]\Ionsieur Hylas ! I 'm glad to see your merry body well yet.
Hylas. r faith, you *re welcome home. What news beyond seas \
Val. None, but new men expected, such as you are, To breed new admirations. 'T is my sister ; Pray you, know her, sir.
Hylas. \Vith all my heart. — Your leave, lady I
Alice. You have it, sir. [_He kisses her.
Hylas. A shrewd smart touch ! which does prognosticate A body keen and active : somewhat old. But that 's all one ; age brings experience And knowledge to despatch [^Aside^ — I must be better, And nearer in my service, with your leave, sir, To this fair lady.
Val. What, the old Squire of Dames'" still i
Hylas. Still the admirer of their goodness — With all my heart, now,
j Love and high rule allow no rivals'^ We have had this seutimeiit before : see vol. iv. 403. The 4to " allowes"; the foHo " allows."
k Sfjuire of Dames] Aii allusiou (which has already occurred, vol. ii. IGOj to a personage so called in Speuscr's /''. Qiteene ; see 13. ill. C. vii. st. ol, tkc.
316 MONSIEUR THOMAS. I act i.
I love a woman of her years, a pacer,
That, lay the bridle on her neck', will travel :
Forty, and somewhat fulsome, is a fine dish ;
These young colts are too skittish. \^Aside.
Enter Mary.
Alice. My cousin Mary, In all her joy, sir, to congratulate Your fair return.
Val. My loving and kind cousin, A thousand welcomes !
Mart/. A thousand thanks to Heaven, sir, For your safe voyage and return !
Val. I thank you. But where 's my blessed Cellide I her slackness In visitation
Mary. Think not so, dear uncle ; I left her on her knees, thanking the gods With tears and prayers.
Val. You have given me too much comfort.
Mary. She will not be long from you.
Hylas. Your fair cousin ?
Val. It is so, and a bait you cannot balk, sir. If your old rule reign in you. You may know her.
Hylas™. A happy stock you have. — Right worthy lady. The poorest of your servants vows his duty And oblig'd faith,
Mary. Oh, 'tis a kiss you would, sir ? Take it, and tie your tongue up. Q//e kisses her.
Hylas. I am an ass, I do perceive now, a blind ass, a blockhead ; For this is handsomeness, this that that draws us. Body and bones. Oh, what a mounted forehead, What eyes and lips, what every thing about her !
' That, lay the bridle on her neck"} So the Editors of 1778 and Weber. — The 4to has " That lay the bridle in her neck." The foHo reads " That lays the bridle in her neck " ,- and so Seward.
■" IJijlas] This prefix is omitted by mistake in both the old cds.
SCENE I.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 317
How like a swan she swims her pace ", and bears
Her silver breasts ! This is the woman, she,
And only she, that I will so much honour
As to think worthy of my love ; all older idols
I heartily abhor, and give to gunpowder,
And all complexions, besides hers, to gypsies. '[Aside.
Enter Francisco at one door, and Cellide at another.
Val Oh, my dear life, my better heart ! all dangers, Distresses in my travel, all misfortunes. Had they been endless like the hours upon me, In this kiss had been buried in oblivion : How happy have you made me, truly happy !
Cel. My joy has so much over-masterM me, That, in my tears for your return
Val. Oh, dearest ! — My noble friend too ? what a blessedness Have I about me now ! how full my wishes Are come again ! A thousand hearty welcomes 1 once more lay upon you ! all I have, The fair and liberal use of all my servants To be at your command, and all the uses Of all within my power
Fran. You are too munificent ; Nor am I able to conceive those thanks, sir
Val. You wrong my tender love now even my service ;
Nothing excepted" ; nothing stuck between us And our entire affections but this woman ; This I beseech you, friend
Fran. It is a jewel,
" swims her pace] Perhaps Milton recollected the present passage when he
described the swan, that
" rojvs
Her state with oary feet." Par. Lost, B. vii. 438.
o excepted'\ Both the old cds. " accepted ". — This passage was mispointed and
misunderstood by Seward and the Editors of 1778. Mason saw that the words
" even my service ;
Nothing excepted^', &c.
are a continuation of
" and all the uses
Of all ivi/hin my power — "
318 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act i.
I do confess, would make a thief, but never
Of him that 's so much yours, and bound your servant :
That were a base ingratitude.
Val. You are noble : Pray, be acquainted with her. Keep your way, sir ; My cousin, and my sister.
Alice. You are most welcome.
Mary. If any thing in our poor powers, fair sir. To render you content and liberal welcome, May but appear, command it.
Alice. You shall find us Happy in our performance.
Fran. The poor servant Of both your goodnesses presents his service.
Val. Come, no more compliment ; custom has made it Dull, old, and tedious : you are once more welcome As your own thoughts can make you, and the same ever : And so, we 'II in to ratify it.
Hylas. Hark you, Valentine ; Is Wild-Oats yet come over ?
Val. Yes, with me, sir.
Mary. How does he bear himself?
Val. A great deal better. Why do you blush ? the gentleman will do well.
Mary. I should be glad on 't, sir.
Val. How does his father ?
Hylas. As mad a worm as e'er he was.
Val. Ilook'dfor't. Shall we enjoy your company ?
Hylas. I '11 wait on ye : Only a thought or two.
Val. We bar all prayers. \^Exeunt all except Hylas.
Hylas. This last wench — ay, this last wench was a fair one, A dainty wench, a i-ight one. A devil take it, What do I ail, to have fifteen now in liking ? Enough, a man would think, to stay my stomach : But what's fifteen, or fifteen score, to my thoughts ? And wherefore are mine eyes made, and have lights, But to increase my objects? This last wench
scKXEii.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 319
Sticks plaguy close tol' nie ; a hundred pound
I were as close to her ! If I lov'd now,
As many foolish men do, I should run mad. lExif.
SCENE II. — A room in the house o/'Si-:rastian.
Enter Sebastian and Launcelot.
Seb. Sirrah, no more of your French shrugs, I advise you : If you be lousy, shift yourself.
Laun. May it please your worship
Seb. Only to see my son ; my son, good Launcelot ; Your master and my son. Body o' me, sir, No money, no more money. Monsieur Launcelot, Not a denier, sweet signior ! Bring the person. The person of my boy, my boy Tom, Monsieur Thomas, Or get you gone again ! Du gata ivhee'^, sir ! Bassa mi cit, good Launcelot ! valetote^' ! My boy, or nothing !
Laun. Then, to answer punctually —
Seb. I say, to the purpose.
Latin. Then I say, to the purpose, Because your worship's vulgar understanding May meet me at the nearest ; — your son, my master, Or Monsieur Thomas (for so his travel styles him). Through many foreign plots that virtue meets with. And dangers, (I beseech you give attention,) Is at the last arriv'd
To ask your (as the Frenchman calls it sweetly) Benediction dejour en jour.
Seb. Sirrah, do not conjure me with your Frencli furies^
p to] So the folio. — The 4to "unto"; and so the Editors of 1778 iind Weber : but compare the next line.
■^ Du gata wfiee] Vitiated Welch, meaning — God bless or preserve jou. See note, vol. iv. 411.
"■ valclote] Was explained l)y the Editors of 1778, " A corruption of voila tout" ; and Weber reprinted their note as a just interpretation 1 ! ! I am therefore compelled to state that it is the imperative of the Latin word valeo.
» French furies] Seward printed " French juvKSi ", and asserted, most untruly, that " in the old quarto of this play it is hard to listinguish whether the last word be Juries or Furies ".
320 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act f.
Laun. Que dites-vous^, monsieur ?
Seb. Che doga vou, rascal ! Leave me your rotten language, and tell me plainly, And quickly, sirrah, lest I crack your French crown. What your good master means. I have maintained You and j-our monsieui', as I take it, Launcelot, These two years at your dittt/ vous, your jours ; Jour me no more ; for not another penny Shall pass my purse.
Laun. Your worship is erroneous ; For, as I told you, your son Tom or Thomas, My master and your son, is now arriv'd To ask you (as our language bears it nearest) Your quotidian blessing ; and here he is in person.
Enter Thomas.
Seb. What, Tom, boy ! welcome with all my heart, boy ! Welcome, faith ! thou hast gladded me at soul, boy ; Infinite glad I am : I have pray'd too, Thomas, j
For you, wild Thomas : Tom, I thank thee heartily For coming home.
Tho. Sir, I do find your prayers Have much prevail'd above my sins
Seb. How 's this ? [Aside.
Tho. Else certain I had perish'd with my rudeness. Ere 1 had won myself to that discretion I hope you shall hereafter find.
Seb. Humh, humh — Discretion! is it come to that ? the boy 's spoiPci. [Aside.
Tho. Sirrah, you rogue, look for 't ; for I will make thee Ten times more miserable than thou thought'st thyself Before thou travell'dst : thou hast told my father (I know it, and I find it) all my rogueries, By mere way of prevention," to undo me.
t Que ditesvous'} Both the old eds. " C/te ditfa vou " ; and so the modern editors. But the travelled Launcelot was certainly not intended to blunder in such a common expression. Frencli is generally given with absurd corruptions by our early printers : in The Woman's Prize (p. 131 of tlie present vol.), Maria's exclamation " Qui va la ?■ " appears in both the folios as " Cheval'a ".
" prevetilion] 1. e., I believe, (not — anticipation, but) prejudice, preposses- sion (a Gallicism).
SCENE II.] MONSIEUR THOlilAS. 321
Laun. Sir, as I speak eight languages, I only Told him you came to ask his benediction De jour en jour,
Tho. But that I must be civil ^ I would beat thee like a dog. — Sir, howsoever The time I have mispent may make you doubtful, Nay, harden your belief 'gainst my conversion —
Seh. A pox o' travel, I say !
Tho, Yet, dear father, Your own experience in my after-courses
Seb. Prithee, no more ; 'tis scurvy. There 's thy sister.
Enter Dorothea. Undone, without redemption ! he eats with picks" ; Utterly spoil'd, his spirit baffled in him ! How have I sinn'd, that this affliction Should light so heavy on me ? I have no more sons, And this no more mine own ; no spark of nature Allows him mine now ; he 's grown tame. My grand curse Hang: o'er his head that thus transform'd thee I Travel ! I '11 send my horse to travel next : We, Monsieur ! Now will my most canonical dear neighbours Say, I have found my son, and rejoice with me. Because he has mew'd^ his mad tricks off. I know not, But I am sure this monsieur, this fine gentleman. Will never be in my books"' like mad Thomas. I must go seek an heir ; for my inheritance Must not turn secretary : my name and quality Has kept my land three hundred years in madness : An it slip now, may it sink ! [Aside, and then exit.
Tho. Excellent sister, I am glad to see thee well. But where 's my" father •
Dor. Gone discontent, it seems.
' civil] i. e. grave, serious, sober.
" picks] i. e. toothpicks, the use of which was particularly affected by persons who had returned from foreign travel : see vol. i. 78, vol. iii. 443, vol. v. 430. " meio'd] i. e. cast : see note, p. 177. " in my hooks] i. e. in my favour : sec note, vol. iv. ."^lO. " my] So the 4to. — The folio "thy" ; and so Seward. vol.. VI 1. Y
322 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act i.
Tho. He did ill in it, As he does all ; for I was uttering A handsome speech or two I have been studying E'er since I came from Paris. How glad to see thee !
Dor. I am gladder to see you (with more love too, I dare maintain it) than my father'^s sorry To see (as he supposes) your conversion ; And I am sure he is vex'd ; nay, more, I know it ; He has pray'd against it mainly : but it appears, sir. You had rather blind him with that poor opinion Than in yourself correct it. Dearest brother, Since there is in our uniform resemblance No more to make us two but our bare sexes, And since one happy birth produc'd us hither, Let one more happy mind
Tho. It shall be, sister ; For I can do it when I list, and yet, wench, Be mad too when I please ; I have the trick on 't : Beware a traveller.
Do7\ Leave that trick too.
The. Not for the world. But where 's my mistress ? And, prithee, say how does she ? I melt to see her, And presently : I must away.
Dor. Then do so, For, o* my faith, she will not see you, brother.
Tho. Not see me ! I '11
Dor. Now you play your true self : How would my father love this ! I '11 assure you She will not see you : she has heard (and loudly) The gambols that you play'd since your departure In every town you came ; your several mischiefs. Your rouses^ and your wenches ; all your quarrels, And the no-causes of 'em ; these, I take it. Although she love you well, to modest ears, To one that waited for your reformation, To which end travel was propounded by her uncle,
^ rouses'\ i. e. bumpex's, — drinking-bouts : see Gifford's note on Massinger's Works, i. 240, ed. 1813.
SCENE II.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 323
Must needs, and reason for it, be examin'd, And by her modesty ; and fear'd too light, too, To file with her affections : you have lost her, For any thing I see, exil'd yourself.
Tho. No more of that, sweet Doll ; I will be civile.
Dor. But how long ?
Tho. Wouldst thou have me lose my birthright ? For yond old thing will disinherit me, If I grow too demure. Good sweet Doll, prithee, Prithee, dear sister, let me see her.
Dor. No.
Tho. Nay, I beseech thee ! By this light
Dor. Ay, swagger.
Tho. Kiss me, ^nd be my friend ; we two were twins. And shall we now grow strangers ?
Dor. 'Tis not my fault.
Tho. Well, there be other women ; and remember you, You were'' the cause of this ; there be more lands too. And better people in ""era, (fare you well,) And other loves : what shall become of me, And of my vanities, because they grieve you
Dor. Come hither, come. Do you see that cloud that flies there ? So light are you, and blown with every fancy. Will you but make me hope you may be civil ? I know your nature 's sweet enough and tender, Not grated on nor curVd. Do you love your mistress ?
Tho. He lies that says I do not.
Dor. ^Vould you see her ?
Tho. If you please; for it must be so.
Dor. And appear to her A thing to be beloved ?
Tho. Yes.
Dor. Change, then,
* c\vil'\ See note, p. 32 1 .
b remember you,
You were] Weber chose to print,
" remember you, You, yon were."
Y 2
324 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act i.
A little of your wildness into wisdom,
And put on a more smoothness.
I Ml do the best I can to help you ; yet
I do protest she swore, and swore it deeply,
She would never see you more. Where's your man's heart
now? What, do you faint at this ?
Tlio. She is a woman : But him^ she entertains next for a servant I shall be bold to quarter.
Dor. No thought of fighting. Go in, and there we '11 talk more : be but rul'd, And what lies in my power you shall be sure of. [^Exeunt.
SCENE III. — A fjarden belonging to Valentine's house.
Enter Alice and Mary.
Alice. He cannot be so wild still.
Mary. 'Tis most certain ; I have now heard all, and all the truth.
Alice. Grant all that ; Is he the first that has been given a lost man. And yet come fairly home ? He is young and tender, And fit for that impression your affections Shall stamp upon him. Age brings on discretion; A year hence these mad toys that now possess him Will shew like bugbears to him, shapes to fright him ; Marriage dissolves all these like mists.
Mary. They are grounded Hereditary in him from his father, And to his grave they will haunt him.
Alice. 'Tis your fear, Which is a wise part in you ; yet your love, However you may seem to lessen it With these dislikes, and choke it with these errors, Do what you can, will break out to excuse him :
"^ /t/m] So the folio. — The 4to " ho" ; and so the Editoi-s of 1778 and Weber. "^ entertains next for a servant'] " i. e. engages as, or accepts for, a lover [see notes, vol. i. 213, \ol.iii. 394]." Weber.
SCENE III.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 325
Vou have him in your heart, and planted, cousin. From whence the power of reason nor discretion Can ever root him.
Mary. Planted in my heart, aunt ! Believe it, no ; I never was so liberal. What though he shew a so-so-comely fellow, "\\'hich we call pretty, or say, it may be handsome ; What though his promises may stumble at The power of goodness in him, sometimes use too
Alice. How willingly thy heart betrays thee ! Cousin, Cozen thyself no more : thou hast no more power To leave off loving him. than he that 's thii'sty Has to abstain from drink standing before him. His mind is not so monstrous : for his shape, If I have eyes, I have not seen his better ; A handsome brown complexion •
Mary. Reasonable, Inclining to a tawny.
Alice. Had I said so, You would have wish'd my tongue out : — then his making
Mary. Which may be mended ; I have seen legs straighter, And cleaner made.
Alice. A body too
Mary. Far neater, And better set together.
Alice. God forgive thee ! For against thy conscience thou liest stubbornly.
Mary. I grant 'tis neat enough.
Alice. 'Tis excellent ; And where the outward parts are fair and lovely, (Which are but moulds o' the mind,) what must the soul be ? Put case, youth has his swing, and fiery nature Flames to mad uses many times
Mary. All this You only use to make me say I love him : I do confess I do ; but that my fondness Should fling itself upon his desperate follies
Alice. I do not counsel that ; see him rcclaimM first, Which will not prove a miracle : yet, Mary,
326 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act i.
I am afraid 'twill vex thee horribly To stay so long.
Mary. No, no, aunt ; no, believe me.
Alice. What was your dream '^ to-night ? for I observed you Hugging of me, with " Good, dear, sweet Tom ! "
Mary. Fie, aunt ! Upon my conscience
Alice. On my word, 'tis true, wench : And then you kiss'd me, Mary, more than once too, And sigh'd, and " Oh, sweet Tom ! " again. Nay, do not
blush ; You have it at the heart, wench.
Mary. I '11 be hang'd first : But you must have your way.
Alice. And so will you too, Or break down hedges for it.
Enter Dorothea.
Dorothea ! The'^ welcom'st woman living ! How does thy brother? I hear he 's turn'd a wondrous civile gentleman, Since his short travel.
Dor. Pray Heaven he make it good, Alice.
Mary. How do you, friend ? I have a quarrel to you ; You stole away and left my company.
Dor. Oh, pardon me, dear friend ! it was to welcome A brother, that I have some cause to love well.
Mary. Prithee, how is he ? thou speak'st truth.
Dor. Not perfect : I hope he will be.
Mary. Never. H'as forgot me, I hear, wench, and his hot love too
Alice. Thou wouidst howl, then. \^Aside.
Mary. And I am glad it should be so : his travels Have yielded him variety of mistresses. Fairer in his eye far.
« What ivas your dream, &c.] " Wo have had occasion to observe before, that Congrevc was much obliged to our authors upon several occasions ; and wo cannot but think he had been reading this scene before he wrote the third scene in the second act of The Old Bachelor." Reed.
' The] Weber chose to print " Thou." ^ civil'\ See note, p. 321.
SCENE III.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 327
Alice. Oh, cogging 'i rascal ! [Aside.
Mary. I was a fool; but better thoughts, I thank Hea- ven
Dor. Pray, do not think so, for he loves you dearly, Upon my troth, most firmly ; would fain see you.
Mary. See me, friend ! do you think it fit ?
Dor. It may be, Without the loss of credit too : he 's not Such a prodigious thing, so monstrous, To fling from all society.
Mary. He ""s so much contrary To my desires, such an antipathy. That I must sooner see my grave.
Dor. Dear friendj He was not so before he went.
Mary. I grant it, For then I daily hop'd his fair conversion.
Alice. Come, do not mask yourself, but see him freely ; You have a mind.
Mary. That mind I '11 master, then.
Dor. And is your hate so mortal \
Mary. Not to his person, But to his qualities, his mad- cap follies, Which still, like Hydra's heads, grow thicker on him. I have a credit, friend ; and maids of my sort Love where their modesties may live untainted.
Dor. I give up that hope, then. Pray, for your friend's sake, If I have any interest within you. Do but this courtesy, accept this letter.
Mary. From him ?
Dor. The same. "Tis but a minute's reading ; And, as we look on shapes of painted devils, Which for the present may disturb our fancy. But with the next new object lose 'em, so. If this be foul, you may forget it. Pray !
Mary. Have you seen it, friend I
Dor. I will not lie, I have not ; But I presume, so much he honours you,
'" cogging] i. c. cheating — lying.
328 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [aci i.
The worst part of liimself was cast away When to his best part he writ this.
Mary. For your sake ; Not that I any way shall like his scribbling-
\_Taliesi letter., and reads it.
Alice. A shrewd dissembling quean !
Dor. I thank you, dear friend. I know she loves him.
Alice. Yes, and will not lose him, Unless he leap into the moon, believe that, And then she "11 scramble too. Young wenches' loves Are hke the course of quartans ; they may shift, And seem to cease sometimes, and yet we see The least distemper pulls 'em back again, And seats 'em in their old course. Fear her not. Unless he be a devil.
Mary. Now Heaven bless me !
Dor. What has he writ ?
Mary. Out, out upon him !
Dor. Ha ! what has the madman done i
Mary. Worse, worse, and worse still !
Alice. Some northern'' toy, a little broad.
Mary. Still fouler ! Hey, hey, boys ! Goodness keep me ! Oh !
Dor. What ail you ?
Mary. Here, take your spell again ; it burns my fingers. Was ever lover writ so sweet a letter, [Returns letter.
So elegant a style 'i Pray, look upon 't ; The rarest inventory of rank oaths That ever cut-purse cast.
Alice. What a mad boy is this !
Mary. Only i' the bottom A little julep gently sprinkled over To cool his mouth, lest it break out in blisters, " Indeed la, yours for ever."
Dor. I am sorry.
'■ northern-] i. e. clownish, coai-sc. « Frcviueiit and not very flattering allu- sions to the North of England occur in the old poets," Sic. Weber.
SCENE I.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 329
Mary. You shall be welcome to me, come when you please, And ever may command me virtuously ; But for your brother, you must pardon me : Till I am of his nature, no access, friend, No word of visitation, as you love me : And so, for now Til leave you. {Exit.
Alice. What a letter Has this thing written ! how it roars like thunder ! AVith what a state he enters into style I " Dear mistress !"
Dor. Out upon him, bedlam !
Alice. Well, there be ways to reach her yet : such likeness As you two carry, methinks
Dor. I am mad too. And yet can apprehend you. Fare you well : The fool shall now fish for himself.
Alice. Be sure, then. His tew' be tith and strong' ; and next, no swearing ; He '11 catch no fish else. Farewell, Doll.
Dor. Farewell, Alice. \_Exeunt severally.
ACT II.
SCENE I. — A room in the house o/' Valentine.
Enter Valentine, Alice, and Cellide.
Cel. Indeed he is much chang'd, extremely alter"'d, His colour faded strangely too.
Val. The air. The sharp and nipping air of our new climate, I hope, is all ; which will as well restore To health again the affected body by it,
' tew'] Spelt in botli the old eds. " tcwgh." — Nares {Gloss, in v.) gives " Tew or Tewgh. A rope or chain by which vessels were drawn along," and cites the present passage as an instance of the word with that meaning. But here " tew " evidently is equivalent to — tackle (fishing-tackle).
J tith and stroiuj] Nearly synonymous in this passage : tilh (tight) has occurred already more than once ; see note, p. 170. — What follows, is still a proverbial saying.
330 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act ii.
And make it stronger far, as leave it dangerous.
How does my sweet ? our blessed hour comes on now
Apace, my Cellide, (it knocks at door,)
In which our loves and long desires, like rivers
Rising asunder far, shall fall together :
Within these two days, dear
Cel. When Heaven and you, sir, Still think it fit ; for by your wills I am governM.
Alice. 'Twere good some preparation
Enter Francisco. Vah All that may be ; It shall be no blind wedding ; and all the joy Of all our friends, I hope. — He looks worse hourly.
How does my friend ! myself? — He sweats, too, coldly ; His pulse, like the slow dropping of a spout, Scarce gives his function. — How is 't, man ? alas, sir, You look extreme ill ! is it any old grief, The weight of which
Fran. None, gentle sir, that I feel ; Your love is too, too tender : nay, believe, sir.
Cel. You cannot be the master of your health : Either some fever lies in wait to catch you. Whose harbingers already in your face We see preparing, or some discontent, Which, if it lie in this house — I dare say, Both for this noble gentleman, and all That live within it — shall as readily Be purg'd away, and with as much care soften'd, And where the cause is
Fran. ""Tis a joy to be ill. Where such a virtuous fair physician Is ready to relieve : your noble cares I must and ever shall be thankful for ;
And would my service — I dare not look upon her — [Aside. But be not fearful ; I feel nothing dangerous ; A grudging 'S caus'd by the alteration Of air, may hang upon me : my heart ""s whole. — I would it were ! \ Aside.
■< grudging] i. e. symptom of disease, — slight illness.
SCENE I.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 331
Fal. I knew the cause to be so.
Frail. No, you shall never know it. [Aside,
Alice. Some warm broths To purge the blood, and keep your bed a day, sir, And sweat it out.
Cel. I have such cordials, That, if you will but promise me to take 'em, Indeed you shall be well, and very quickly : I '11 be your doctor ; you shall see how finely 1 'll fetch you up again.
Fal. He sweats extremely ; Hot, very hot : his pulse beats like a drum now — Feel, sister, feel — feel, sw,eet.
Fran. How that touch stung me ! [Aside.
Val. My gown there ! [ To Servants loitkin.
Cel. And those juleps in the window !
Alice. Some see his bed made !
Val. This is most unhappy. — Take courage, man ; 'tis nothing but an ague.
Cel. And this shall be the last fit.
Fra7i. Not by thousands. Now what His to be truly miserable, I feel at full experience. [Aside.
Alice. He grows fainter.
Val. Come, lead him in ; he shall to bed : a vomit, I '11 have a vomit for him.
Alice. A purge first ; And, if he breath'd a vein
Val. No, no, no bleeding ; A clyster will cool all.
Cel. Be of good cheer, sir.
Alice. He 's loath to speak.
Cel. How hard he holds my hand, aunt !
Alice. I do not like that sign.
Val. Away to 's chamber ! Softly ; lie 's full of pain : be diligent, With all the care ye have. — Would I had "scusM him !
[Exezmt.
332 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act ii.
SCENE II. — A room in ike house of Sebastian.
Enter Dorothea and Thomas.
-Do?*. Why do you rail at me ? do I dwell in her, To force her to do this or that? your letter ! A wild-fire on your letter, your sweet letter ! You are so learned in your writs ! You stand now As if you had worried sheep. You must turn tippet', And suddenly, and truly, and discreetly, Put on the shape of order and humanity, Or you must marry Malkin the !May-lady'" ; You must, dear brother. Do you make me carrier Of your " confound-me's " and your culverins ? Am I a seemly agent for your oaths ? Who would have writ such a debosh'd"
Tho. Your patience : May not a man profess his love ?
Dor. In blasphemies ? Rack a maid's tender ears with damns and devils ? Out, out upon thee° !
Tho. How would you have me write ? Begin with " My love premised ; surely, A nd by my truly, mistress " ?
Dor. Take your ow^n course, For I see all persuasion 's lost upon you, Humanity all drown'd : from this hour fairly I '11 wash my hands of all you do. Farewell, sir,
Tho. Thou art not mad ?
Dor. No ; if I were, dear brother, I would keep you company. Get a new mistress. Some suburb saint ^ that sixpence and some oaths i
' turn iippef] " This phrase, like that of turn Turk, implies a change of conduct, condition, &c." See Gifford's note on Jonson's Works, vi. 378.
'" the May-lady] See note, p. 61.
" debosh'd] i. e. debauched.
o Out, out upon thee] Is, in both the old eds., the commencement of the next speech.
I' Some suburb saint] See note, vol. iii. 408.
' oalhs] Both the 4to and the folio " others."
SCENE II.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 333
Will draw to parley ; carouse her health in cans
And candles' ends"', and quarrel for her beauty ;
Such a sweetheart must serve your turn : your old love
Releases you of all your ties, disclaims you,
And utterly abjures your memory,
Till time has better managed you. ^Vill you command me
Tho. What, bobb'd^ of all" sides !
Dor. Any worthy service Unto my father, sir, that I may tell him. Even to his peace of heart and much rejoicing. You are his true son Tom still I will it please you To beat some half-a-dozen of his servants presently. That I may testify you have brought the same faith Unblemish'd home you carried out ? or, if it like you. There be two chambermaids within, 3'oung wenches, Handsome, and apt for exercise : you have been good, sir, And charitable, though I say it, signior, To such poor orphans : and now, by the way, I think on 't, Your young rear-admiral, I mean your last bastard, Don John^, you had by Lady Blanch the dairy-maid, Is, by an academy of learned gypsies, Foreseeing some strange wonder in the infant, Stoln from the nurse, and wanders with those prophets. There is plate in the parlour, and good store, sir. When you want", shall supply it. So, most humbly (First rendering my due service) I take leave, sir. \^Exit.
Tho. Why, Doll ! why, Doll, I say !— :My letter fubb'd too, And no access without I mend my manners ! All my designs in limbo ! I will have her, Yes, I will have her, though the devil roar,
■■ carouse her health in cans
And candles' ends] The swallowing of candles' ends with their wine, hi hononv of their mistresses, was a frequent practice among the gallants of other days, and is mentioned by various writers.
» bobb'd] i. e. fooled, jeered.
« Your young rear-admiral, J mean your last bastard, Don John"] "This is evidently an allusion to the celel)rated bastard Don John of Austria, who gained the naval battle of Lepanto, in l.")/!, against tho Turks." Weber.
" you want} Seward's coiTection. — Both the 4to and the folio " your wants."
334 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act ii.
I am resolv'd that, if she live above ground :
I '11 not be bobb'd i' the nose with every bobtail.
I will be civil" too, now I think better.
Exceeding civil, wondrous finely carried ;
And yet be mad upon occasion.
And stark mad too, and save my land : my father,
Pll have my will of him, howe'er my wench goes. [Exit.
SCENE III. — Before the house of Sebastian. Enter Sebastian and Launcelot.
Seb. Sirrah, I say still, you have spoil'd your master; — leave your stitches^' ; — I say, thou hast spoil'd thy master.
Laun. I say, how, sir ?
Seb. Marry, thou hast taught him, like an arrant rascal, First, to read perfectly, which on my blessing I warn'd him from, for I knew, if he read once, He was a lost man. Secondly, Sir Launcelot, Sir lousy Launcelot, you have suffered him, Against my power first, then against my precept. To keep that simpering sort of people company, That sober men call civil : mark you that, sir ?
Laun. An 't please your worship
Seb. It does not please my worship, Nor shall not please my worship. Third and lastly, Which, if the law were here, I would hang thee for, (However, I will lame thee,) like a villain. Thou hast wrought him Clean to forget what "'tis to do a mischief, A handsome mischief, such as thou knew'st I lov'd well : My servants all are sound now, my drink sour'd. Not a horse pawn'd, nor play'd away ; no warrants Come for the breach of peace ;
Men travel with their money, and nothing meets 'em. I was accursed to send thee : thou wert ever
" civil] See note, p. 321. " stitches] i. e. contortions of the face, grimaces (as before, vol. iii. 255). — Tlio Editoi-s of 1778 pi-oposed to read "speeches" !
SCENE lit.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 335
Leaning to laziness and loss of spirit ;
Thou slept'st ^ still like a cork upon the water.
Laun. Your worship knows I ever was accounted The most debosh'd"' ; and, please you to remember, Every day drunk too, for your worship's credit ; I broke the butler's head too.
Seb. No, base palliard"^, I do remember yet that anslaight^' ; thou wast beaten, And fled'st before the butler, a black-jack^ Playing upon thee furiously ; I saw it ; I saw thee scatter'd, rogue. Kehold thy master !
Enter Thomas, with a hook.
Tlio. What sweet content dwells here !
Laun. Put up your book, sir ; We are all undone else.
Seb. Tom, when is the horse-race ?
Tho. I know not, sir.
Seb. You will be there ?
Tho. Not I, sir ; I have forgot those journeys.
Seb. SpoilM for ever ! — [Aside.
The cocking holds at Derby, and there will be Jack ^Vild-Oats and Will Purser.
Tho. I am sorry, sir, They should employ their time so slenderly ; Their understandings will bear better courses.
Seb. Yes, I will marry again [Aside]. — But, Monsieur Thomas,
' slept^st] Weber chose to print " sleep'st," — which the preceding line but one proves to be wrong. "' debosh^d'] i. e. debauched.
^ palliard] " Palliard, a debauchee, a whore-mastor ; from the French. Skinner." Seward. Like other words of the kind, it became a general term of reproach, without reference to its original meaning.
y anslaiffhl] So both the 4to and the folio ; and since Todd (who remarks that it is " the parent, perhaps, of onslaught ") has given it a place in his ed. of Johnson's Did. on the authority of the present passage, I have not followed the modern editors in altering it to " onslaught."
' black-jack} See note, vol. i. 181.
336 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act h.
What say you to the gentleman that challeng'd you Before you '"* went, and the fellow you fell out with ?
Tho. Oh, good sir, Remember not those follies ! Where I have wrong'd, sir, (So much I have now learn\l to discern myself,) My means and my repentance shall make even ; Nor do I think it any imputation To let the law persuade me.
Seh. Any woman ; I care not of what colour or complexion ; Any that can bear children \^Aside\. — Rest you merry ! [E.riV.
Lmin. You have utterly undone, clean discharg'd me ; I am for the ragged regiment.
Tho. Eight languages. And wither at an old man's words ?
Laun. Oh, pardon me ! I know him but too well. Eightscore, I take it, Will not keep me from beating, if not killing : I '11 give him leave to break a leg, and thank him. You might have sav'd all this, and sworn a little ; What had an oath or two been l or a head broke. Though 't had been mine, to have satisfied the old man I
Tho. I '11 break it yet.
Laun. Now 'tis too late, I take it. Will you be drunk to-night, (a less entreaty Has served your turn,) and save all yet ? not mad-drunk, For then you are the devil ; yet the drunker, The better for your father still : your state is desperate, And with a desperate cure you must recover it : Do something, do, sir ; do some drunken thing, Some mad thing, or some any thing to help us.
Tho. Go for a fiddler, then ; the poor old fiddler That says his songs. But first, where lies ray mistress ? Did you inquire out that ?
Laun. V the lodge, alone, sir. None but her own attendants.
^ 2/07<] Both the Ito and the folio "he" (a misprint for "ye''); and so Seward.
«KNE III.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 337
Tho. 'Tis the happier : Away, then, find this fiddler, and do not miss me By nine o'clock.
Laun. Via^^ ! [Exit.
Tho. My father 's mad now, And ten to one will disinherit me : I '11 put him to his plunge, and yet be merry.
Enter Hylas and Sam. What, Ribabalde ^ !
Hylas. Don Thomasio ! Le hieii-venu f'.
Tho. I do embrace your body. — How dost thou, Sam ?
Sam. Tho same Sam still ; your friend, sir.
TJio. And how is 't, bouncing boys I
Hylas. Thou art not altered ; They said thou wert all monsieur.
Tho. Oh, believe it, I am much altered, much another way ! The civiFst ^ gentleman in all your country : Do not ye see me alter'd ? " Yea and nay," gentlemen ; A much-converted man. AVhere's the best wine, boys ?
Hylas. A sound convertite !
77^0. What, hast thou made up twenty yet ?
Hylas. By'r lady, I have given a shrewd push at it, for, as I take it. The last I fell in love with scor'd sixteen.
Tho. Look to your skin ; Rambaldo * the sleeping giant Will rouse, and rent thee piece-meal.
Ff'a] " i. e. Away ! " Reed. — This exclamation is very common in old plays : according to Nares (Gloss, in v.), « it was doubtless designed originally as a quibble, between via a way, and the interjection Away."
= Ribabalde] " This I take to be an intentional corruption of ribald, a lewd fellow." Weber, — who should have said — a name formed, for the occasion, from ribald.
^ Le bien-venu] Both the 4to and the folio "De bene venew".
' civil'sc] See note, p. 321 .
' Rambaldo] "Evidently a well-known personage in some popular romance ; but where, is not clear." Nares's Gloss, in v. VOL. VII. T
338 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act ii-
Sam. He ne^er perceives 'em Longer than looking on.
Tho. Thou never mean'st, then, To marry any that thou lov'st ?
Hylas. No, surely ; Nor any wise man, I think. Marriage ! Would you have me now begin to be ""prentice *^, And learn to cobble other men's old boots ?
Sam. Why, you may take a maid.
Hylas. Where ? can you tell me ? Or, if 'twere possible I might get a maid, To what use should I put her ? look upon her, Dandle her upon my knee, and give her sugar-sops ? All the new gowns i' the parish will not please her. If she be high-bred, (for there ""s the sport she aims at,) Nor all the feathers in the Friars ".
Tho. Then take a widow, A good staunch wench that 's tith ''.
Hylas. And begin a new order ? Live in a dead man's monument ? not I, sir. I '11 keep mine old ' road, a true mendicant ; What pleasure this day yields me, I never covet To lay up for the morrow : and methinks ever Another man's cook dresses my diet neatest.
Tho. Thou wast wont to love old women, fat and flat-nosM, And thou wouldst say they kiss'd like flounders, flat All the face over.
Hylas. I have had such damsels, I must confess.
Tho. Thou hast been a precious rogue.
Sam. Only his eyes ; and, o' my conscience. They lie with half the kingdom.
Enter .1 and pass over the stage.) Physicians and others. Tho. What 's the matter ?
f be 'prentice] Seward silently printed "be a prentice ".
K the Friars] i. e. Black-friars, which formerly abounded with Puritans, many of whom followed there the business of dealers in feathers : to this our early dramatists very frequently allude.
'■ tith] i.e. tight (as several times before ; see p. 170).
' oldj So the 4to. — The folio " own " ; and so Seward.
scii.NK III.] MONSIEUR THOxMAS. 339
^Mlithe^ go all these men-menders, these physicians ?
Whose dog lies sick o' the mulligrubs ?
Saifi. Oh, the gentleman, The young smug signior, Master Valentine Brought out of travel with him, as I hear, Is fain sick o' the sudden, desperate sick ; And likely they go thither.
Tho. Who, young Frank I The only temperM spirit, scholar, soldier. Courtier, and all in one piece I 'tis not possible.
Enter Alice.
Sam. There's one can better satisfy you.
Tho. Mistress Alice, I joy to see you, lady.
Alice, Good Monsieur Thomas, You 're welcome from your travel. I am hasty ; A gentleman lies sick, sir.
Tho. And how dost thou ? I must know, and I will know.
Alice. Excellent well ; Aj: well as may be, thank you.
Tho. I am glad on 't ; And, prithee, hark.
Alice. I cannot stay.
TTio. A while, Alice.
Sam. Never look so narrowly ; the mark 's in her mouth still.
Hylas. I am looking at her legs ; prithee, be quiet.
Alice. I cannot stay.
Tho. Oh, sweet Alice —
Hylas. A clean instep, And that I love a'-life ' : I did not mark This woman half so well before : how quick And nimble, like a shadow, there her leg shew'd !
i a'-life] i. e. as my life, excessively (Tyrwhitt supposed that it was an abbre- viation of " at life " > but Todd, rightly I think, explains it " a vulgarism fox* on '"y life, or of my life ; meaning, I love as I love my life." Johnson's Diet, in v.). — Altered by Seward to " as life " ; and so the Editors of 1778.
z 2
340 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act ii.
By the mass, a neat one ! the colour of her stocking,
A much-inviting colour. [Aside.
Alice. My good Monsieur, I have no time to talk now.
Hylas. Pretty breeches, Finely becoming too. [Aside.
Tho. By Heaven
Alice. She will not, I can assure you that, and so
Tho. But this word !
Alice. I cannot, nor I will not. Good Lord ! \_Exit.
Hylas. Well, You shall hear more from me. [Aside.
Tho. We ni go visit [Frank] ; 'Tis charity ; besides, I know she is there, And under visitation I shall see her. — Will you along ?
Hylas. By any means.
Tho. Be sure, then, I be a civil ^ man. I have sport in hand, boys, Shall make mirth for a marriage-day.
Hylas. Away, then ! [_Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — A room in the house of Valentine.
Enter three Physicians, with an urinal.
First Phys. A pleurisy, I see it.
Sec. Phys. I rather hold it For tremor cordis.
Third Phys. Do you mark the faeces .'' 'Tis a most pestilent contagious fever ; A surfeit, a plaguy surfeit ; he must bleed.
First Phys. By no means.
Third Phys. I say, bleed.
First Phys. I say, 'tis dangerous, The person being spent so much beforehand. And nature drawn so low : clysters, cool clysters.
'' civWl See note, p. 321.
SCENE v.j MONSIEUR THOMAS. 341
Sec. Phys. Now, with your favours, I should think a vomit ; For, take away the cause, the effect must follow : The stomach 's foul and furr'd, the pot 's unphlegmM ' yet.
Third Phys. No, no, we '11 rectify that part by mild means ; Nature so sunk must find no violence.
Enter a Servant. Serv. Will 't please ye draw near ? the weak gentleman Grows worse and worse still.
First Phys. Come, we will attend him.
Sec. Phys. He shall do well, my friend.
Serv. My master's love, sir.
First Phys. Excellent well, I warrant thee ; right and
straight, friend. Third Phys. There ^s no doubt in him, none at all ; ne'er fear him. [Exeunt.
SCENE V. — Another i-oom in the same.
Enter Valentine and Michael.
Mich. That he is desperate sick, I do believe well, And that without a speedy cure it kills him ; But that it lies within the help of physic Now to restore his health, or art to cure him, Believe it you are cozen'd, clean beside it. I would tell you the true cause too, but 'twould vex you, Nay, run you mad.
Val. May all I have restore him, — So dearly and so tenderly I love him (I do not know tiie cause why), — yea, my life too?
Mich. Now I perceive you so well set, I '11 tell you : Hei 7nihi"\ quod nullis amor est medicahilis herhis !
Val. 'Twas that I only fear'd : good friend, go from me;
' nnphlegm^d] Spelt both in the 4to and folio " unflani'd ", — Seward printed " unclean'd " (informing us tliat " (he pot " moans here the stomach), and pro- posed in a note another alteration, " enflani'd ", which was adopted by the Editors of 1778. "Suffice it to say, that the Second Doctor means that the phlegm is not discharged into the vessel, and must therefore still be in tlie stomach of the patient. " Weber.
"- Hei mihi, &c.] Ovid, Met. i. 523.
342 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act ii.
I find my heart too full for further conference. You are assur'd of this ?
Mich. 'Twill prove too certain : But bear it nobly, sir ; youth hath his errors.
Val. I shall do. and I thank you ; pray you, no words on't.
Mich. I do not use to talk, sir.
Val. You are welcome. {^Exit Michael.
Is there no constancy in earthly things, No happiness in us but what must alter 1 No life without the heavy load of fortune ? What miseries we are, and to ourselves ! Even then when full content seems to sit by us. What daily sores and sorrows !
Enter Alice. Alice. Oh, dear brother ! The gentleman, if ever you will see him Alive, as I think
Enter Cellide.
Cel. Oh, he faints ! for Heaven-sake, For Heaven-sake, sir
Val. Go comfort him, dear sister : — \^Exit Alice.
And one word, sweet, with you ; then we '11 go to him. What think you of this gentleman ?
Cel. My pity thinks, sir, 'Tis great misfortune that he should thus perish.
Val. It is, indeed ; but, Cellide, he must die.
Cel. That were a cruelty, when care may cure him. Why do you weep so, sir ? he may recover.
Val. He may ; but with much danger. My sweet Cellide, You have a powerful tongue.
Cel. To do you service.
Val. I will betray his grief : he loves a gentlewoman, A friend of yours, whose heart another holds ; He knows it too : yet such a sway blind fancy ", And his not daring to deliver it. Have won upon him, that they nmst undo him :
" fancy] i. c. love.
scENK v.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 343
Never so hopeful and so sweet a spirit Misfortune fell so foul on.
Cel. Sure, she 's hard-hearted That can look on and not relent, and deeply, At such a misery. She is not married ?
Val Not yet.
Cel. Nor near it 'i
Val. When she please.
Cel. And, pray, sir, Does he deserve her truly, that she loves so I
Val. His love may merit much, his person little, For there the match lies mangled.
Cel. Is he your friend ?
Val. He should be, for he is near me.
Cel. Will not he die, then, When th' other shall recover ?
Val. You have pos'd me.
Cel. Methinks he should go near it, if he love her, If she love him.
Val. She does, and would do equal.
Cel. 'Tis a hard task you put me" ; yet, for your sake, I will speak to her : all the art I have ; My best endeavours ; all his youth and person, His mind more full of beauties i' ; all his hopes ; The memory of such a sad example. Ill-spoken of and never old ; the curses Of loving maids, and what may be alleg'd, I '11 lay before her. What 's her name 1 I am ready.
Val. But will you deal effectually 'i
Cel. Most truly ; Nay, were it myself 'i, at your entreaty.
Val. And could you be so pitiful ?
Cel. So dutiful, Because you urge it, sir.
Val. It may be, then, It is yourself.
" you put me'\ Webei:. chose to print " you put upon me " ! p beauties'] Tho 4to has " beautis".— The folio reads "beauty"; aud so Seward.
■' it myself] Seward silently printed " it I myself".
S-ii MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act ii.
Cel. It is indeed ; I know it ; And now know how you love me.
Val. Oh, my dearest, Let but your goodness judge, your own heart pity' ! Set but your eyes on his afflictions ; He is mine, and so becomes your charge : but think What ruin Nature suffers in this young man, What loss humanity, and noble manhood ; Take to your better judgment my declining, My age hung full of impotence and ills, My body budding now no more, — sear winter Hath seal'd that sap up ; at the best and happiest I can but be your infant, you my nurse, And how unequal, dearest ! where' his years. His sweetness, and his ever-spring of goodness, My fortunes growing in him, and myself too. Which makes him all your old love — Misconceive not ; I say not this as weary of my bondage, Or ready to infringe my faith ; bear witness. Those eyes that I adore still, those lamps that light me To all the joy I have !
Cel. You have said enough, sir. And more than e'er I thought that tongue could utter ; But you are a man, a false man too ! —
Val. Dear Cellide
Cel. And now, to shew you that I am a woman Robb'd of her rest, and fooFd out of her fondness. The gentleman shall live, and, if he love me, Ye shall be both my triumphs. I will to him ; And, as you carelessly fling off your fortune. And now grow weary of my easy winning, So will I lose the name of Valentine, From henceforth all his flatteries ; and, believe it, Since you have so slightly parted with affection,
"■ Let but your goodness judge, your own heart pity] The 4to lias, " Let but your goodnesse judge : your owne part : pitiy ". The folio reads,
" Let but your goodness judge ; your own part's pity " ; and so the modern editors.
• where] " i. e. whereas." Weber.
SCENE I.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 345
And that affection you have pawn'd your faith for, From this hour no repentance, vows, nor prayers, Shall pluck me back again : what I shall do, (Yet I will undertake his cure,) expect it. Shall minister no comfort, no content, To either of ye, but hourly more vexations.
Vol. Why, let him die, then.
Cel. No ; so much I have lov'd To be commanded by you, that even now. Even in my hate, I will obey your wishes.
Val What shall I do ?
Cel. Die like a fool unsorrow'd, A bankrupt fool, that flings away his treasure ! I must begin my cure.
Val. And I my crosses. \^Exeitnt severally.
ACT III.
SCENE I. — A room in the house of Valentine.
Francisco discovered in bed ; three Pliysicians and an Apothecary.
First Phijs. Clap on the cataplasm.
Fran. Good gentlemen, Oood learned gentlemen
Sec. Phi/s. And see those broths there. Ready within this hour. — Pray, keep your arms in ; The air is raw, and ministers much evil.
Fran. Pray, leave me; I beseech ye, leave me, gentlemen ; I have no other sickness but your presence : Convey your cataplasms to those that need 'em, Your vomits, and your clysters.
Third Fhijs. Pray, be rul'd, sir.
First Phys. Bring in the lettice-cap'. — You nuist be shav'd, sir, And then how suddenly we '\\ make you sleep !
' the letticecap] See notcH, vol. i. 187, and p. 263 of the prusent vol.
346 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act in.
Fran. Till dooms-day. — What unnecessary nothings Are these about a wounded mind ! [Aside.
Sec. PJiys. How do you 1
Fran. What questions they propound too ! [Asicle.^ — How do you, sir ? ^
1 am glad to see you well.
Third Phys. A great distemper ; it grows hotter still.
First Phys. Open yovn* mouth, I pray, sir.
Fran. And can you tell me How old I am then ? There 's my hand ; pray, shew me How many broken shins within this two year. — Who would be thus in fetters I [^Aside.'} — Good master doctor, • And you, dear doctor, and the third sweet doctor. And precious master apothecary, I do pray ye To give me leave to live a little longer : Ye stand before me like my blacks".
Sec. Phys. 'Tis dangerous ; For now his fancy turns too.
Enter Cellide.
Cel. By your leave, gentlemen ; And, pray you, your leave a while too ; I have something Of secret to impart unto the patient.
First Phys. With all our hearts.
Third Phys. Ay, marry, such a physic May chance to find the humour. Be not long, lady, For we must minister within this half-hour.
Cel. You shall not stay for me.
[Exeunt Physicians and Apothecary.
Fran. Would you were all rotten, [Rises.
That ye might only intend*' one another's itches ! Or would the gentlemen, with one consent, Would drink small beer but seven year, and abolish That wild-fire of the blood, unsatiate wenching, That your two Indies, springs and falls, might fail ye ! What torments these intruders into bodies !
Cel. How do you, worthy sir ?
Fran. Bless me, what beams
" blacks'\ " i. e. raouruiug weeds." Weber. '' intend] i. e. attend to.
SCENE I.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 347
Flew from these ^^ angel eyes ! Oh, what a misery,
What a most studied torment 'tis to me now
To be an honest man ! [Aside.] — Dare you sit by me I
Cel. Yes, and do more than that too, comfort you ; I see you have need.
Fra)i. You are a fair physician : You bring no bitterness gilt o'er to gull us, No danger in your looks — yet there my death lies.
Cel. I would be sorry, sir, my charity, And my good wishes for your health, should merit So stubborn a construction. Will it please you To taste a little of this cordial I
I
Enter Valentine, behind.
For this I think must cure you.
Fran. Of which, lady ? — Sure, she has found my grief [Jside]. — Why do you blush so ?
Cel. Do you not understand ? of this, this cordial.
[Kisses him.
Val. Oh, my afflicted heart ! she is gone for ever. \_Aside.
Fran. AVhat heaven you have brought me, lady !
Cel. Do not wonder ; ___^_--
For 'tis not impudence, nor want of honour. Makes me do this ; but love, to save your life, sir, (Your hfe too excellent to lose in wishes,) Love, virtuous love.
Fran. A virtuous blessing crown you ! Oh, goodly sweet, can there be so much charity, So noble a compassion in that heart, That 's fill'd up with another's fair affections ? Can mercy drop from those eyes ? Can miracles be wrought upon a dead man. When all the power you have, and perfect object, Lies in another's light % and his deserves it?
" lhese'\ The Editors of 1778 silently printed " those" ; and so Weber.
» H'hen all the power you have, and perfect object, Lies in another's light, &c.] " L e. ' When all the power you have, and the perfect object of that power, lies in the light of anothex*, who deserves the exercise of that power.' Seward reads — Uhis pci-fect object'." Weber. Heath {MS. Notes) proposes to read "another's right".
348 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [actiii.
Cel. Do not despair ; nor do not think so * boldly I dcire abuse my promise : 't was your friend's, And so fast tied I thought no time could ruin : But so much has your danger, and that spell The powerful name of friend, prevailed above him^ To whom I ever owe obedience, That here I am, by his command, to cure you. Nay, more, for ever, by his full resignment ; And willingly I ratify it.
Fran. Hold, for Heaven-sake ! Must my friend's misery make me a triumph ? Bear I that noble name, to be a traitor I Oh, virtuous goodness, keep thyself untainted ! You have no power to yield, nor he to render, Nor I to take : I am resolv'd to die first ; —
Val. Ha ! say''st thou so ? nay, then, thou shalt not perish.
\^ Aside.
Fran. And though I love you above the light shines on me ; Beyond the wealth of kingdoms, free content '' ; Sooner would snatch at such a blessing offer d Than at my pardon'd life by the law forfeited ; Yet, yet, oh, noble beauty, yet, oh. Paradise, (For you are all the wonder revealM of it,) Yet is a gratitude to be preserved, A worthy gratitude, to one most worthy The name and nobleness of friend '*.
" so'\ The 4to has "to." The folio " too " ; aud so the modern editors. '■ above him'] " Seems to signify on him, or over him." Ed. 1778. " Rather, above the strength of his affections." Weber. ^ free content] Seward gave the passage thus ;
" Beyond the ivealth of kingdoms ; free, content, Sooner tvould snatch at such a blessing" &c. " I am inchned to read 'free to consent'. Francisco means to «ay, that if he were at Hberty to accept of her love, he should pi-cfer it to kingdoms, or even to life ; but, for the reasons he afterwards assigns, he was not free to embrace that happiness." Mason. I agree with the Editors of 1778 and Weber in thinking that the old text is the right one. In defence of it, the following lines from Ford's Broken Heart, act iv. so. 1, are adduced by Weber ; " Some such there are whose liberal cotitents Swarm without care in eveiy sort of plenty." » friend] Mason's correction, and obviously necessary. — Both tiic -Ito and the fdlio " friends" ; aud so the modern editors.
SCENE!.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 319
Cel. Pray, tell me, If I had never known that gentleman, Would you not willingly embrace my offer ? P Fran, Do you make a doubt ? ' Cel. And can you be unwilling, He being old and impotent I his aim too Leveird at you, for your good I not constrain'd, But out of cure and counsel ? Alas, consider, Play but the woman with me^ and consider, As he himself does, and I now dare see it, Truly consider, sir, what misery
Fran. For virtue*'s sake, take heed !
Cel. What loss of youth, What everlasting banishment from that Our years do only covet to arrive at, Equal affections, [born]*' and shot together ! What living name can dead age leave behind him, What act'' of memory, but fruitless doting ?
Fran. This cannot be.
Cel. To you, unless you apply it With more and firmer faith, and so digest it ; I speak but of things possible, not done. Nor like to be : a posset cures your sickness, And yet I know you grieve this ; and howsoever The worthiness of friend may make you stagger, (Which is a fair thing in you,) yet, my patient, My gentle patient, I would fain say more, If you would understand.
VaL Oh, cruel woman ! [Aside.
^ Plan ^"^ '^^ woman with me] " i. e. suppose yourself, as I am, a woman." Ed. 1778.
' [6orn] Insei'ted by the Editors of 1778. — Both in the 4to and in the folio the line stands thus;
" Equall affections and shot together.'^
Sewai'd printed,
" Equal affections, and shot up together."
'' acf] So the Editors of 1778 from Theobald's conjecture. — Both the 4to and the folio " art" ; and so Scwacd and Weber, — Mason defending that reading by a reference to passages in The Custom of the Country and The Beggars' Bush : see note, vol. iv. 493.
350 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act iii.
Cel. Yet, sure, your sickness is not so forgetful. Nor you so willing to be lost.
Fran. Pray, stay there : Methinks you are not fair now ; methinks more, That modest virtue, men deliver'd of you, Shews but like shadow to me, thin and fading.
Val Excellent friend ! \_Aside.
Fran. You have no share in goodness ; You are belied ; you are not Cellide, The modest, [the] immaculate. Who are you ? For I will know ; what devil, to do mischief Unto my virtuous friend, hath shifted shapes With that unblemish'd beauty ?
Cel. Do not rave, sir, Nor let the violence of thoughts distract you : You shall enjoy me ; I am yours ; I pity. By those fair eyes, I do.
Fran. Oh, double-hearted ! Oh, woman, perfect woman ! what distraction Was meant to mankind when thou wast made a devil ! What an inviting hell invented ! Tell me. And, if you yet remember what is goodness. Tell me by that, and truth, can one so cherish'd, So sainted in the soul of him whose service Is almost turn'd to superstition, Whose every-day endeavours and desires Offer themselves like incense on your altar, Whose heart holds no intelligence but holy And most religious with his love, whose life (And let it ever be remembered, lad}',) Is drawn out only for your ends
Val. Oh, miracle ! \^Aside.
Fran. Whose all, and every part of man (pray, mark'' me) Like ready pages wait upon your pleasures, Whose breath is but your bubble — Can you, dare you, Must you cast off this man, (though he were willing, Though, in a nobleness to*^ cross my danger,
<■ mark} Both the 4to and the foHo " make", f to] Both the 4to and the folio " so".
SCENE i.l MONSIEUR THOMAS. :^51
His friendship durst confirm it,) without baseness, Without the stain of honour I shall not people Say liberally hereafter, " There's the lady That lost her father, friend, herself, her faith too. To fawn upon a stranger", — for aught you know, As faithless as yourself, in love as fruitless ?
Val Take her, with all my heart ! thou art so honest That 'tis most necessary I be undone : With all my soul possess her" ! [Aside, and then exit.
Cel. Till this minute I scorn'd and hated you, and came to cozen you ; UtterVl those things might draw a wonder on me, To make you mad ; —
Fran. Good Heaven, what is this woman ? [Aside.
Cel. Nor did your danger, but in charity, Move me a whit ; nor you appear unto me More than a common object : yet now truly, Truly, and nobly, I do love you dearly, And from this hour you are the man I honour ; You are the man, the excellence, the honesty, The only friend ; and I am glad your sickness Fell so most happily at this time on you, To make this truth the world's.
F7-an. Whither do you drive me?
Cel. Back to your honesty ; make that good ever ; 'Tis like a strong-built castle, seated high, That draws on all ambitions ; still repair it. Still fortify it : there are thousand foes, Besides the tyrant Beauty, will assail it : Look to your sentinels that watch it hourly, — Your eyes, — let them not wander.
Fran. Is this serious, Or does she play still with me'' ? [Aside.
Cel. Keep your ears. The two main ports that may betray you, strongly
e With all my soul possess hcr'\ Botli in the 4to and the folio these words are by mistake made the commencement of the next speech.
•> Or does she play still with ine'\ In the 4to these words are by mistake given as the commencement of the next speech.
352 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [*" m.
From light belief first, then from flattery, Especially where woman beats the parley ; The body of your strength, your noble heart, From ever yielding to dishonest ends, Ridg'd round about with virtue, that no breaches, No subtle mines may meet you.
Fran. How like the sun Labouring in his eclipse, dark and prodigious', She shew'd till now ! when having won hisJ way. How full of wonder he breaks out again, And sheds his virtuous beams ! [^szV/e.]— Excellent angel. For no less can that heavenly mind proclaim thee. Honour of all thy sex, let it be lawful (And like a pilgrim thus I kneel to beg it, Not with profane lips now, nor burnt affections. But, reconciPd to faith, with holy wishes,) To kiss that virgin hand !
Cel. Take your desire, sir, And in a nobler way, for I dare trust you ; No other fruit my love must ever yield you, I fear, no more : yet your most constant memory (So much I am wedded to that worthiness) Shall ever be my friend, companion, husband. Farewell, and fairly govern your affections ; Stand, and deceive me not. — Oh, noble young man, I love thee with my soul, but dare not say it ! — [^Asidr.
Once more, farewell, and prosper !
Fran. Goodness guide thee ! {^Exit Cellide.
My wonder, like to fearful shapes in dreams. Has waken'^d me out of my fit of folly. But not to shake it off : a spell dwells in me, A hidden charm, shot from this beauteous woman, That fate can ne'er avoid, nor physic find ; And, by her counsel strengthenM, only this Is all the help I have, I love fair Virtue. Well, something I must do, to be a friend ; Yet I am poor and tardy ; something for her too,
' prodigious'] i. e. portentous.
J his} Both the 4to and the folio " her".
SCENE I.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 353
Though T can never reach her excellence, Yet but to give an offer at a greatness.
Re-enter Valentine, with Thomas, Hylas, and Sam.
Val Be not uncivil, Tom, and take your pleasure.
Tho. Do you think I am mad ? you '11 give me leave To try her fairly l
Val. Do your best.
Tho. Why, there, boy !— But where 's the sick man ? *
Hylas. Where are the gentlewomen That should attend him I there 's the patient : Methinks these women
Tho. Thou think'st nothing else.
Val. Go to him, friend, and comfort him ; I '11 lead you. — Oh, my best joy, my worthiest friend ! pray, pardon me ; I am so overjoy 'd I want expression : T may live to be thankful. Bid your friends welcome. [^Exit.
Tho. How dost thou, Frank? how dost thou, boy? bear up, man : What, shrink i' the sinews for a little sickness ! Diavolo, morte !
Fran. I am o' the mending hand.
Tho. How like a flute thou speak'st ! " o' the mending hand," man ! " Gogs bores'*, I am well ! " speak like a man of worship.
Fran. Thou art a mad companion' ; never staid, Tom,
Tho. Let rogues be staid that have no habitation ; A gentleman may wander "'. Sit thee down, Frank, And see what I have brought thee : come, discover ;
'■ Gogs boresi "Possibly a corruption of the ancient oa.th— God's bones". Weber. No: " Gogs bores'^ is "God's bores" — "bores" meaning — wounds (those of our Saviour on the cross).
' companion] "i.e. fellow". Weber.
■" never staid, Tom.
Tho. Let rogues be staid that have no habitation ; A gentleman may wander] "Thomas here quibbles on the word staid, and uses it in the sense of stopped or aprested ; alluding to the power vested in magis- trates of stopping vagabonds". Mason.— Seward deliberately printed "that have an habitation " /
VOL. VII. A A
354 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act hi.
Open the scene, and let the work appear : [Dratvs out a bottle. A friend at need, you rogue, is worth a million.
Fran. What hast thou there ? a julep ?
Hylas. He must not touch it ; 'Tis present death.
Tho. You are an ass, a twire-pipe", A Jeffery John Bo-peep: thou minister" ! Thou mend a left-handed pack-saddle : out, puppy ! — My friend, Frank, but a very foolish fellow. Dost thou see that bottle ? view it well.
Fran. I do, Tom.
Tho. There be as many lives in ^t as a cat carries ; 'Tis everlasting liquor.
Fran. What ?
Tho. Old sack, boy, Old reverend sack, which, for aught that I can read yet, Was that philosopher's stone the wise king Ptolomeus Did all his wonders by.
Fi'an. I see no harm, Tom, Drink P with a moderation.
Tho. Drink with sugar''. Which I have ready here, and here a glass, boy : Take me without my tools ! [^Draios out sugar and a glass.
Sam. Pray, sir, be temperate; You know your own state best.
Fran. Sir, I much thank you. And shall be careful : yet a glass or two, So fit I find my body, and that so needful
Tho. Fill it, and leave your fooling. Thou say'st true, Frank
" hvire-pipe'] At p. 58 of the present vol. we have the verb twire in the sense of leer : but, as Nares observes, " in older authors to hvire sometimes means to sing [according to Richardson {Diet, in v.) — to chirp] ; and to this (wire- pipe seems to allude." Gloss, in v. I su=;pect that twire-pipe means pro- perly— some sort of pipe for alluring birds (as quail-pipe, &c.)
° minister'] " Means — administer [as a physician]." Mason. — Both the 4to and the folio "mimister" ; and so Seward !
•* Drink] Here, and in the next speech, Mason says we should read "Drunk," — an unnecessary alteration.
1 tcith sugar] " The fondness of the English for sweetening wine with sugar is often alluded to in old books, and was noticed by sevoi'al travellers." &c, &c. Webeu.
SCENE I.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 355
Hylas. Where are these women, I say ?
Tlio. 'Tis most necessary : Hang up your juleps, and your Portugal possets, Your barley-broths, and sorrel-sops ! they are mangy, And breed the scratches only : give me sack ! — I wonder where this wench is though. — Have at thee !
Hylas. So long, and yet no bolting \
Fran. Do ; I '11 pledge thee.
Tho. Take it off thrice, and then cry " heigh ! " like a huntsman, With a clear heart ; and no more fits, I warrant thee: The only cordial, Frank.
First Phjs. \ioithin\ Are the things ready I And is the barber come !
Serv. [loithhi] An hour ago, sir.
First Phys. [loithin] Bring out the oils, then.
Fran. Now or never, gentlemen, Do me a kindness, and deliver me.
Tho. From whom, boy ;
Fran. From these things that talk within there ; Physicians, Tom, physicians, scouring-sticks : They mean to read upon me.
Hylas. Let 'em enter.
Tho. And be thou confident we will deliver thee. —
Re-enter Physicians and Apothecary, icith Barber. For, look you, doctor ; say the devil were sick now. His horns saw'd off, and his head bound with a biggin', Sick of a calenture, taken by a surfeit Of stinking souls at his nephew's, at' St. Dunstan's, What would you minister upon the sudden ? Your judgment, short and sound.
First Phys. A fool's head.
Tho. No, sir, It must be a physician's, for three causes ; The first, because it is a bald head likely. Which will down easily without apple-pap; —
Third Phys. A main cause !
' a biggin] Or liggen — a kind of cap fitting closely round the forehead. ' ai] Seward'.s correction. — Both the Ito and the folio " and."
A A 2
356 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act hi.
Tho. So it is, and well consider''cl : — The second, for 'tis fill'd with broken Greek, sir, VVhich will so tumble in his stomach, doctor, And work upon the crudities, (conceive me,) The fevers f and the fiddle-strings within it. That those damn'd souls must disembogue again.
Hylas. Or, meeting with the Stygian humour —
Tho. Right, sir.
Hylas. Forc'd with a cataplasm of crackers —
Tho. Ever.
Hylas. Scour all before him, like a scavenger.
Tho. Satisjecisti, domine. — My last cause, My last is, and not least, most learned doctors. Because in most physicians' heads — I mean those That are most excellent, and old withal. And angry, though a patient say his prayers. And Paracelsians that do trade with poisons, We have it by tradition of great writers — There is a kind of toad-stone " bred, whose virtue. The doctor being dried
First Phys. We are abus'd, sirs.
Hylas. I take it so, or shall be [Aside] : — for, say the belly ache ^ , Caus'd by an inundation of pease-porridge, Are we therefore to open the port-vein, Or the port Esquiline I
Sam. A learned question ! Or grant the diaphragma by a rupture, The sign being then in the head of Capricorn —
Tho. Meet with the passion Hyperchondriaca, And so cause a carnosity in the kidneys. Must not the brains, being butter'd with this humour — Answer me that.
Sayn. Most excellently arguM !
Sec. Phys. The next fit you will have, my most fine scholar,
' fevers] The 4to "feai'es," the folio "fears" ; and so the modem editors. " load-seonel Sec note, p. 19'J. " the belli/ ache] Both the 4to and the folio "the belly-ake" ; and so the modern editors.
SCENE I.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 357
Bedlam shall find a salve for. — Fare you well, sir : We came to do you good ; but these young doctors, It seems, have bor'd our noses.
Third Phys. Drink hard, gentlemen, And get unwholesome drabs : 'tis ten to one, then, We shall hear further from ye, your note altered.
[_Exeunt Phys., Apoth., and Barber.
Tkomas. Aud wilt thou be gone, says one ? [They sing.
Hylus. And wilt thou be gone, says t' othei- ?
Thomas. Then take the odd crown, To mend thy old gown,
Sam. And we '11 be gone all together.
Fran. My learned Tom !
Enter Servant.
Serv. Sir, the young gentlewomen Sent me to see what company you had with you ; They much desire to visit you.
Fran. Pray you, thank 'em, And tell 'em my most sickness is their absence : You see my company.
Tho. Come hither. Crab : What gentlewomen are these ? my mistress ?
Serv. Yes, sir.
Hylas. And who else I
Serv. Mistress Alice.
Hylas. Oh !
Tho. Hark you, sirrah, No word of my being here, unless she know it.
Se7'v. I do not think she does.
Tho. Take that, and mum, then. [Gives mone^j.
Serv. You have tied my tongue up. \^Exit.
Tito. Sit you down, good Francis, And not a word of me till you hear from me ; And, as you find my humour, follow it. —
358 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act in.
You two come hither, and stand close, unseen, boys, And do as I shall tutor ye,
Frayi. What new work ?
Tho. Prithee, no more, but help me now.
Hylas. I would fain Talk with the gentlewomen.
Tho. Talk with the gentlewomen ! Of what, forsooth ? whose maidenhead the last masque Suffei'M impression ? or whose clyster wrought best ? Take me as I shall tell thee.
Hylas. To what end, VV^hat other end came we along ?
Sam. Be rul'd though.
Tho. Your weasel-face must needs be ferreting About the farthingale : do as I bid you, Or, by this light
Hylas. Come, then.
Tho. Stand close, and mark me.
[Ea'^V, with Hylas and Sam, behind the arras.
Fran. All this forc^l foolery will never do it.
Enter Alice and Mary.
Alice. I hope we bring you health, sir : how is 't with you?
Mary. You look far better, trust me. — The fresh colour Creeps now again into his cheeks.
Alice. Your enemy, 1 see, has done his worst. Come, we must have you Lusty again, and frolic, man ; leave thinking.
Mary. Indeed it does you harm, sir.
Fran. My best visitants, I shall be govern'd by ye.
Alice. You shall be well, then, And suddenly, and soundly well.
Mary. This air, sir. Having now season'd you, will keep you ever.
Tho. \jvithin~\ No, no, I have no hope : nor is it fit, friends, (My life has been so lewd, my loose condition, Which I repent too late, so lamentable,) That any thing but curses light upon me ; Exorbitant in all my ways —
-CENEi.l MONSIEUR THOMAS. 359
Alice. Who 's that, sir I Another sick man ?
Mary. Sure, I know that voice well.
Tho. [xoithin~\ In all my courses cureless ^^ disobedience —
Fran. What a strange fellow 's this ! \^Aside.
Tho. [icithiri] No counsel, friends. No look before I leapt.
Alice. Do you know the voice, sir ?
Fran. Yes ; 'tis a gentleman's that 's much afflicted In 's mind : great pity, ladies.
Alice. Now, Heaven help him !
Fran. He came to me, to ask free pardon of me For some things done long since, which his distemper Made to appear like wrong, but 'twas not so.
Mary. Oh, that this could be truth !
Hylas. [withi7i] Persuade yourself.
Tho. [ivifJmi] To what end, gentlemen? when all is perish'd Upon a wreck, is there a hope remaining The sea, that ne'er kn«w sorrow, may be pitiful ? My credit's split and sunk, nor is it possible. Were my life lengthened out as long as
Mary. I like this well.
Sam. [tvithiji] Your mind is too mistrustful.
Tho. [within] I have a virtuous sister, but I scorn'd her ; A mistress too, a noble gentlewoman, For goodness all out-going
Alice. Now I know him.
Tho. [loit/wi] Which ^ these eyes, friends, my eyes, must never see more.
Alice. This is for your sake, Mary : take heed, cousin ; A man is not so soon made.
Tho. [ivitlmt] Oh, my fortune ! But it is just, I be despis'd and hated.
Hylas. {ioithin~\ Despair not, 'tis not manly : one hour''s goodness Strikes off an infinite of ills.
" cureless'^ So the 4to. — The folio "careless" ; and so Seward.
" WhicJi] Both the 4to and the folio " With ".— " T take ' With,' here, to have been put for Whom or Which. 'J'he former is more correct English, the latter nearer the trace of the letters ; and the old English writers as often apply wh ich to men and women as to inanimate things." Seward.
360 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act hi. ^;
Alice. Weep truly, I
And with compassion, cousin.
F7'a?i. How exactly This cunning young thief plays his part ! [Aside.
Mary. Well, Tom, My Tom again, if this be truth.
Hylas. \jcithin\ She weeps, boy.
Tho. [ivithiri] Oh, I shall die !
Mary. Now, Heaven defend ^ !
Sam. [jtJzWim] Thou hast her.
Tho. [loithiri] Come, lead me to ray friend, to take his farewell ; And then what fortune shall befall me, welcome ! — How does it shew ? [Aside to Hylas.
Hylas. [icifMn^ Oh, rarely well !
Mary. Say you so, sir ?
Fran. Oh, you grand ass ! \_Aside.
Mary. And are you there, my juggler ? Away ! we are abus'd, Alice.
Alice. Fool be with thee ! [Exeunt Mary and Alice.
Re-enter Thomas, Hylas, and Sam.
Tho. Where is she ?
Fran. Gone : she found you out, and finely ; In your own noose she halter'd you : you must be whispering, To know how things shew'd ; not content to fare well, But you must roar out roast meat. Till that suspicion, You carried it most neatly ; she believ'd too, And wept most tenderly : had you continued, Without doubt you had brought her off.
TJio. This was thy roguing, For thou wert ever whispering : fie upon thee ! Now could I break thy head.
Hylas. You spoke to me first.
Tho. Do not anger me, For, by this hand, I'll beat thee buzzard-blind, then' ! She shall not scape me thus. Farewell for this time.
y defend"] i. e. forbid.
' thee buzzard-blind, then] So the Editors of 1778.— Both the 4to and the foUo " tho buzanl blind then " ,• and so Seward.
SCENE ti.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 361
Fran. Good-night : 'tis almost bed-time ; yet no sleep Must enter these eyes, till I work a wonder. \^Exit.
Tho. Thou shalt along too, for I mean to plague thee For this night's sins ; I will ne'er leave walking of thee Till I have worn thee out.
Hylas. Your will be done, sir.
Tho. You will not leave me, Sam I
Sam. Not I.
Tho. Away, then ! I '11 be your guide. — Now, if my man be trusty, My spiteful dame, I '11 pipe you such a hunt's-up =» Shall make you dance a tipvaes'\ — Keep close to me.
^Exeunt.
SCENE II. — A room in the house of Sebastian.
Enter Sebastian and Dorothea.
Seb, Never persuade me ; I will marry again. What should I leave my state' to pins and poking-sticks'', To farthingales and frounces*^ ? to fore-horses^'. And an old leather § bawdy-house behind 'em? To thee I
Dor. You have a son, sir.
Seb. Where 1 what is he ? AV^ho is he like !
Dor. Yourself.
Seb. Thou liest ; thou hast marr'd him,
» hunt's-up] See note, vol. v. 45.
'' tipvaes] " Perhaps we should read ' tiptoes ;' unless there be some dance called 'tipvaes' ; which, however, we never heard of." Ed. 1778. Is not " tipvaes " a word akin to tivy ?
<:_ What should I leave my state'] i. e. For what, why (as before, see notes, vol. V. 384, vol. vi. 453) should 1 leave my estate.— The Editors of 1778 and Weber print " What, should I," &c.
■^ poking-sticks'] i. e. sticks or irons for setting the plaits of ruffs. Those of wood or bone were originally employed ; but, as Stow informs us, " about the six- teenth year of the queen [EHzabeth] began the making of steel poking-sticks," which, of course, were used hot.
' frounces] Mean plaits, fringes, and other ornaments of di-ess, — flounces. — Seward silently printed " flounces " : and so his successors.
' fore-horses] Altered by Seward to " four horses."
K leather] Weber chose to print " leathern."
3fi2 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act iii.
Thou, and thy prayer-books : I do disclaim him.
Did not I take him singing yesternight
A godly ballad, to a godly tune too,
And had a catechism in 's pocket, damsel 1
One of your^ dear disciples, I perceive it.
When did he ride abroad since he came over ?
What tavern has he us'd to ? what things done
That shew? a man and mettle ? When was my house
At such a shame before, to creep to bed
At ten o'clock, and twelve, for want of company ?
No singing, nor no dancing, nor no drinking ?
Thou think'st not of these scandals. When, and where,
Has he but shew'd his sword of late 1
Dor. Despair not, I do beseech you, sir, nor tempt your weakness ; For, if you like it so, I can assure you. He is the same man still.
Seb. Would thou wert ashes On that condition ! but, believe it, gossip,
You shall know you have wrong'd
Dor. You never, sir ; So well I know ray duty : and, for Heaven-sake, Take but this counsel with you ere you marry (You were wont to hear me) ; take him, and confess him, Search him to the quick, and, if you find him false. Do as you please ; a mother's name I honour.
Seb. He is lost and spoil'd ; I am resoWd my roof Shall never harbour him : and for you, minion, I '11 keep you close enough, lest you break loose, And do more mischief: get you in ! [Exit Dokotuka.
Who waits ? Enter Servant. Serv. Do you call, sir ? Seb. Seek the boy, and bid him wait My pleasure in the morning : mark what house He is in, and what he does ; and truly tell me. Serv. I will not fail, sir. Seb. If you do, I '11 hang you. \_Exeunt scveraUi/.
* your^ Weber printed " owr " /
n shew] Thcoldeds. "shewes" and "shews."
s ENE III.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 363
SCENE III. — Before the Lodged heloiiging to Valentine's liouse.
Enter Thomas, Hylas, and Sam.
Tho. Keep you the back-door there, and be sure None of her '' servants enter, or go out : If any woman pass, she is lawful prize, boys : Cut off all convoys.
Hylas. Who shall answer this ?
Tho. Why, I shall answer it, you fearful widgeon ; I shall appear to the action.
Hylas. May we discourse, too. On honourable terms ?
Tlio. With any gentlewoman That shall appear at window : you may rehearse too, By your commission safely, some sweet parcels Of poetry to a chambermaid.
Hylas. May we sing too ? For there ""s my master- piece.
Tho. By no means ; no, boys ; I am the man reserv'd for air ; 'tis my part ; And, if she be not rock, my voice shall reach her. Ye may record' a little, or ye may whistle. As time shall minister ; but, for main singing, I*ray ye, satisfy yourselves. Away ! be careful.
Hylas. But hark you, one word, Tom; we may be beaten.
Tho. That 's as ye think good yourselves : if you deserve it. Why, 'tis the easiest thing to compass. Beaten ! \V'hat bugbears dwell in thy brains? who should beat thee?
Htjlas. She has men enough.
Tho. Art not thou man enough too? Thou hast flesh enough about thee : if all that mass
B Before the Lodye, &c.J In act ii. sc. 3, Thomas asks, "where lies my mistress [Mary] ?" and Launcelot answers,
" 1 ' the lodge, alone, sir, None but her own attendants." That this lodge belonged to Valentine's house, appears from act iv. sc. 2., — " Seb. At Valentine's house eo merry ? Serv. As a pie, sir," &c. '' her] Weber chose to pi-iut " the".
' record] Sec note, vol. v. 231. Here it would seem from the context to mean — hum a tune.
364 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act m.
Will not maintain a little spirit, hang it, j
And dry it too for dogs' meat. Get you gone ; 1
I have things of moment in my mind. That door, '
Keep it as thou wouldst keep thy wife from a serving-man. No more, I say. — Away, Sam !
Sam. At your will, sir. \_Exeunt Hylas and Sam.
Enter Launcelot and Fiddler.
Laun. I have him here; a rare rogue. Good sweet master, Do something of some savour suddenly, That we may eat, and live : I am almost starv'd ; No point manger, no point de vi?i, no, seigneur\ Not by the virtue of my languages ; Nothing at my old master's to be hop'd for ; Oh, Seigneur Dieu ! nothing to line my life with, But cold pies with a cudgel i^', till you help us.
Tho. Nothing but famine frights thee. — Come hither, fiddler : What ballads are you seen in best ? be short, sir.
Fid. Under your mastership's correction, I can sing The Duke of Norfolk^ ; or The merry ballad OfDiveriis and Lazarus"' ; The Rose of England'^ ; In Crete ivhen Dedimus first began ; Jonas his Crying-out against Coventry • -^
Tho. Excellent! Rare matters all.
j No point manger, no point de vin, no, seigneur^ Both the 4to and the folio, "No point manieur, no point devein, no Signieur" ; and so the modern editors. As to the expression " iVo point," see Malone's notes on Love's Labour's Lost, act ii. sc. 1, act v. sc. 2, — Shakespeare, by Boswell, vol. iv. 316, 419.
•* cold pies tvith a cudgel] That these words can only signify— strokes with a cudgel, is surely plain enough : yet Weber here explains " cold pies " — swords !
' The Duke of Norfolk] " Was probably a ballad relating to the misfortunes of Thomas Duke of Norfolk, executed in 1572." Weber.
'" Diverus and Lazarus] " Probably [certainly] an intentional corruption of Dives and Lazarus." Weber.
" The Rose of England] " Is undoubtedly either Thomas Deloney's Fair Rosamond (printed by Percy, Rel. ii. 143, ed. 1794), or The Unfortunate Con- cubinc, or Rosamond's Overthrow (Evans's Ballads, ii. 68, ed. 1810)." Weber. The former, 1 think. It was probably written by Deloney, as it is found in more than one of his publications.
SCENE III ] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 365
Fid. Moicdlin the Merchanfs Daughter"; - The Devil, and Ye dainty dames°
Tho. Rare still !
Fid. The Landing of the Spaniards at Bow, With the Bloody Battle at Mile-EndW
Tho. All excellent ! No tuning, as you love me ; let thy fiddle Speak Welch, or any thing that 's out of all tune ; The vilderH still the better ; like thyself, For I presume thy voice will make no trees dance.
Fid. Nay, truly, you shall have it even as homely —
° Maudlin the JMerchant's Daughter] The earliest impression of this long ballad which I have seen is one (printed perhaps about IfJOO) in the Roxburgh collection, vol. i. 232, entitled The Merchants Daughter of Bristoiv. To the Tune of The Maidens Joy. Another impression, much later and somewhat altered, occurs in the same vol. p. 278, called " Maudlin The Merchant's Daughter of Bristol," &c. A copy of it, abounding in errors and a good deal modernised, may be found in vol. iii. 201 (sec. ed. of that vol., 1738) of A Collection of old Ballads, &c. in thi-ee volumes, supposed to have been edited by Ambrose Phillips.
" The Devil, and Ye dainty dames] Though the devil figures in several old ditties, I recollect no ballad to which he gives the title. " Ve dainty dames " are the initial words of A Warning for Maidens. To the Tune of The Ladies Fall,—
" You daintie Dames so fiuelie fram'd In beauties chiefest mold, And you that trip it up and down Like lambs in Cupids fold," &c. 1 quote from an early edition in the Roxburgh collection, vol. i. 501. A copy of this ballad, somewhat different, is printed in vol. i. 261, ed, 1723, of the Collection of Old Ballads, kc. in three volumes, above mentioned ; where it is entitled A Godly Warning to all J\faidens, by the Example of God's Judgements shewed on Jerman's tVife of Clifton in the County of Nottingham, who lying in Child-Bed, was borne away, and never heard of afterwards. There is a play on the same subject by William Sampson, called The Vow-Breaker, or The Faire Maide of CUfton, &c. 1G36.
P The Landing of the Spaniards at Bote, With the Bloody Battle at Mile-End] Some absurd ditty, so entitled, was perhaps extant in our author's time. Weber compares the following passage of The Knight of the Burning Pestle, act ii. sc. 2 ; " I can assure thee, Michael, Mile-End is a goodly matter : there has been a pitchfield, my child, between the naughty Spaniels and the Englishmen ; and the Spaniels ran away, Michael, and the Englishmen followed" (vol. ii. 156, where see jiote) ; and he observes that " another allusion to this action at Mile-End occui*s in the Epilogue to A Wife for a Month.^'
<* vilder] i. c. viler : see note, vol. i. 331. — Altered to "viler" by the Editors of 1778 ; and so Weber.
366 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act iii.
Tho. Keep you to that key. Are they all a-bed, trow?
Laun. I hear no stirring any where, no light In any window; 'tis a night for the nonce'', sir.
77*0. Come, strike up, then, and say The Merchant's Dauc/hter ; We 'II bear the burden : proceed to incision, fiddler. [Song.
Servant appears at the window. Serv. Who 's there ? what noise is this ? what rogue at these hours ?
Thomas {jinffs^. Oh, what is that to you, my fool ?
Oh, what is that to you ? Pluck in your face, you hawling ass, Or I will break your brow.
IJey, down, down, a-down.
A new ballad, a new, a new !
Fiddler l^sin^s']. ' The twelfth of April, on May-day, My house and goods were bui-nt away, &c.
Maid appears at the icindow. Maid, Why, who is this ?
Launcelot [^sings']. Oh, damsel dear. Open the door, and it shall appear ; Open the door !
Maid [_sivgs~\. Oh, gentle squire, ^ I '11 see thee hang' first ; farewell, my dear !—
Mary appears at the windoio. 'Tis Master Thomas ; there he stands.
Mary. 'Tis strange That nothing can redeem him. Rail him hence, Or sing him out in 's own way ; any thing To be deliver''d of him.
Maid. Then have at him ! \_Sinqs.
' for the nonce] i. e. for the occasion. Oh, gentle squire] Was first assigned to the Maid by the Editors of 1 7 78.— Both in the 4 to and in the folio these words are sung by Launcelot ; and so in Seward's ed. Mason says that here the old copies are "dearly right" : I think nothing can be clearer than that they are wrong.
» ha7ig] So the 4to.— The folio "hang'd" ; and so Seward.
SCENE in.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 367
My man Thomas Did me promise, He would visit me this night.
Thomas. I am here, love ; Tell me, dear love. How I may obtain thy sight.
Maid. Come up to my window, love",
Come, come, come ; Come to my window, my dear : The wind nor the rain Shall trouble thee again, But thou shalt be lodged here.
Tho. And art thou strong enough \ Laun. Up, up ! I warrant you. Mary. AVhat dost thou mean to do ? Maid. Good mistress, peace ; I '11 warrant you we '11 cool him. — Madge ! Madfje. \\oithiii\ I am ready.
Thomas {_sings'\. The love of Greece, and it tickled him so, That he devised a way to go.
Now sing The Duke of Northumberland'' .
Fiddler \jings~\. And climbing to promotion, He fell down suddenly.
{^As Thomas is attemptiivj to scale the windo^c"-", Madge appears at it, with a deviTs vizard, roaring : she offers to kiss him, and he falls down.
Maid. Farewell, sir !
Mary. What hast thou done ? thou hast broke his neck.
" Come up to my window, love. Sec] "These lines are also quoted [with variations] from some old ballad or song in The Woman's Prize [act i. sc. 3] and in The Knight of the Burning Pestle [act iii. sc. 5]." Weber. See p. 115 of the present vol., and vol. ii. 194.
* The Duke of Northumberland] " Probably this was some ballad on the Earl (not Duke) of Northumberland, beheaded in 1572." Weber.
" As Thomas is attempting to scale the windoto, &c.] Here the stage-dii'cc- tion both in the 4to and the folio is merely, " Madge with a divels vizard roring, offers to kisse him, and he fals down"; to which Seward and the Editors of 1778 made no additions. Weber, however, altered it thus, — " Enter, below, Madge, with a devil's vizard," &c. shewing that he altogether misunderstood the business of the scene.
368 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [actiif.
Maid. Not hurt him ; He pitch'd upon his legs like a cat.
Tho. Oh, woman ! Oh, miserable woman ! I am spoil'd ! My leg, my leg, my leg ! oh, both my legs !
Mary. I told thee what thou hadst done ; mischief go with thee ! [^All above loithdraw.
Tho. Oh, I am lam'd for ever ! oh, my leg. Broken in twenty places ! — Oh, take heed. Take heed of women, fiddler ! — Oh, a surgeon, A surgeon, or I die ! Oh, my good people ! No charitable people ? all despiteful ? Oh, what a misery am I in ! oh, my leg !
Laun. Be patient, sir, be patient : let me bind it.
Tho. Oh, do not touch it, rogue !
Re-enter Sam, and Hylas with his head broken.
Hylas. My head, my head ! Oh, my head 's kill'd !
Sam. You must be courting wenches Through key-holes, Captain Hylas ! Come, and be comforted ; The skin is scarce broke.
Tho. Oh, my leg ! ^
Sam. How do you, sir ?
Tho. Oh, maimM for ever with a fall ! He 's spoilM too ; I see his brains.
Hylas. Away with me, for God's sake ! A surgeon !
Sam. Here 's a night, indeed.
Hylas. A surgeon !
\^Exeunt all except Thomas and Fiddler.
Enter, below, Mary and Servant ^'.
Mary. Go, run for help.
Tho. Oh!
Mary. Run all, and all too little. — Oh, cursed beast that hurt him ! — Run, run, fly ! He will be dead else. [Exit Servant.
Tho. Oh !
* Servantl See first entrance, p. 366.
scENR III.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 369
Mary. Good friend, go you too.
Fid. \Vho pays me for my music ?
Mary. Pox o' your music ! There 's twelvepence for you. \^Gives money.
Fid. There 's two groats again, forsooth ; I never take above : and rest you merry !
Mary. A grease-pot gild your fiddle-strings ! [^Exit Fiddler.
How do you ? How is my dear ?
Tho. [rising'] Why, well, I thank you, sweetheart. Shall we walk in ? for now there 's none to trouble us.
Mary. Are you so crafty, sir ? I shall meet with you. —
[Aside, and drops her scarf. I knew your trick, and I was willing, my Tom, Mine own Tom, now to satisfy thee. Welcome, welcome ! Welcome, my best friend, to me, all my dearest !
Tho. Now you are my noble mistress. We lose time, sweet.
Mary. I think they are all gone.
Tho. All ; you did wisely.
Mary. And you as craftily.
Tho. We are well met, mistress.
Mary. Come, let 's go in, then, lovingly. — Oh, my scarf, Tom ! I lost it thereabout ; find it, and wear it As your poor mistress' favour. [Exit into the house.
Tho. I am made now ; I see no venture is in no hand"^. — I have it. — [Finds the scorf. How now ! the door lock'd, and she in before ! Am I so trimm'd !
Mary re-appears at the window.
Mary. One parting word, sweet Thomas : Though, to save your credit, I discharged your fiddler, I must not satisfy your folly too, sir. You ""re subtle ; but, believe it, fox, I '11 find you. The surgeons will be here straight ; roar again, boy,
^ I see no venture is in no hand} Seward, " though not witliout apprehensions of being thought to have taken unwarrantable liberties"', printed " / see no venture, nothing have". The Editoi-i of 1778 put a break after "hand", supposing the sentence to be " incomplete, and so intended by the writer ". No alteration is required : the old reading, as Mason observes, is equivalent to the more modern form of the proverb, Nothing venture, nothing have.
VOL. VII. n B
370 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act ir.
And break thy legs for shame ; thou wilt be sport else. Good nio-ht. [Withdraws from the icindow.
Tho. She says most true ; I must not stay : she has bobVd>' me; Which, if I live, I '11 recompense, and shortly. Now for a ballad to bring me off again : {Sings.
All young men, be warn' d by me,
How you do go a-wooing ; Seek not to climb, for fear ye fall.
Thereby comes your undoing, &c. [Exit,
ACT IV.
SCENE I. — A room in the house o/' Valentine.
Enter Valentine, Alice, and Servant.
Vol. He cannot go, and take no farewell of me : Can he be so unkind ? he 's but retir'd Into the garden or the orchard. See, sirs.
Alice. He would not ride there, certain ; those were planted Only for walks, I take it.
Val. Ride ! nay, then
Had he a horse out I
Serv. So the groom delivers, Somewhat before the break of day.
Val. He's gone, [Exit Servaiit.
My best friend's gone, Alice ! I have lost the noblest, The truest, and the most man, I e'er found yet.
Alice. Indeed, sir, he deserves all praise.
Fal. All, sister ; All, all, and all too little. Oh, that honesty. That ermine honesty, unspotted ever, That perfect goodness !
Alice. Sure, he will return, sir ; He cannot be so harsh.
Val. Oh, never, never. Never return ! thou know'st not where the cause lies.
y bobb'd] i. e. fooled, tricked.
SCENE I.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 371
Alice. He was the worthiest welcome
Fal. He deservM it.
Alice. Nor wanted, to our knowledge
Val. I will tell thee, Within this hour, things that shall startle thee. He never must return.
E7itcr Michael.
Mich. Good morrow, signior.
Fal. Good morrow, Master Michael.
Mich. My good neighbour, Methinks you are stirring early ; since your travel, You have learn'd the rule of health, sir. Where 's your
mistress ? She keeps her warm, I warrant you, a-bed yet.
Val. I think she does.
Alice. 'Tis not her hour of waking.
Mich. Did you lie with her, lady I
Alice. Not to-night, sir, Nor any night this week else.
Mich. When last saw you her I
Alice. Late yesternight.
Mich. Was she a-bed then I
Alice. No, sir; I left her at her prayers. Why do you ask me ?
Mich. I have been strangely haunted with a dream All this long night, and, after many wakings. The same dream still : methought I met young Cellide Just at St. Katherine's gate, the nunnery
Val. Ha !
Mich. Her face slubberM o'er with tears and troubles ; Methought she cried unto the lady abbess, " For charity receive me, holy woman, A maid that has forgot the worWs affections, Into thy virgin order " : methought she took her, Put on a stole and sacred robe upon her ; And there I left her.
Val. Dream !
Mich. Good mistress Alice,
B li 2
372 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [activ.
Do me the favour (yet to satisfy me) To step but up, and see.
Alice. I know she 's there, sir, And all this but a dream.
Mich. You know not my dreams ; They are unhappy ones, and often truths : But this, I hope yet
Alice. I will satisfy you. [Exit.
Mich. Neighbour ^, how does the gentleman ?
Val. I know not. — Dream of a nunnery !
Mich. How found you my words About the nature of his sickness, Valentine ?
ral. Did she not cry out 'twas my folly too That forc'd her to this nunnery ? did she not curse me I For God-sake speak ! did you not dream of me too ? How basely, poorly, tamely, like a fool, Tir'd with his joys
Mich. Alas, poor gentleman !— [Aside.
You promisM me, sir, to bear all these crosses.
Fal. I bear ""em till I break again.
Mich. But nobly,
Truly to weigh
Val. Good neighbour, no more of it ; You do but fling flax on my fire.
Re-enter Alice.
Where is she ?
Alice. Not yonder, sir, nor has not this night certain Been in her bed.
Mich. It must be truth she tells you ; And now I '11 shew you why I came. This morning A man of mine, being employ'd about business, Came early home, who, at St. Katharine's nunnery. About day-peep, told me he met your mistress ; And, as I spoke it in a dream, so troubled. And so receiv'd by the abbess, did he see her :
« Neighbour] Both the 4to and the folio, here and in Valentine's next speech, but two, " Neighboui'3."
SCENE n] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 373
The wonder made me rise, and haste unto you To know the cause.
Val. Farewell : I cannot speak it. \^Exit Valentine.
Alice. For Heaven-sake, leave him not !
Mich. I will not, lady.
Alice. Alas, he 's much afflicted !
Mich. We shall know shortly more. Apply your own care At home, good Alice, and trust him to my counsel : Nay, do not weep ; all shall be well, despair not. \^Exeunt.
SCENE II. — A room in the house o/* Sebastian.
Enter Sebastian and a Servant. Seh. At Valentine's house so merry ? Serv. As a pie, sir. Seh. So gamesome, dost thou say ? Serv. I am sure I heard it. Seh. Ballads, and fiddles too I Se7'v. No, but one fiddle ; But twenty noises.
Seh. Did he do devices I
Se7'v. The best devices, sir. Here 's my fellow Launcelot,
Enter Launcelot. He can inform you all ; he was among 'em, A mad thing too ; I stood but in a corner.
Seh. Come, sir ; what can you say ? is there any hope yet Your master may return ?
Laun. He went far else : I will assure your worship, on my credit. By the faith of a traveller and a gentleman. Your son is found again, the son, the Tom.
Seh. Is he the old Tom I
Laun. The old Tom.
Seh. Go forward.
Laun. Next, to consider haw he is the old Tom.
Seh. Handle mc that.
Laun. I would you had seen it handled
374 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act iv.
Last night, sir, as we handled it ! cap-a-pe ! Foutra for leers and leerings ^ ! oh, the noise, The noise we made !
Seb. Good, good !
Laun. The windows clattering, And all the chambermaids in such a whobub '', One with her smock half-off, another in haste" With a serving-man's hose ^ upon her head
Seb. Good still !
Laun. A fellow railing out of a loop-hole there, And his mouth stopt with dirt
Seb. V faith, a fine boy^!
Lau?i. Here one of our heads broke
Seb. Excellent good still !
Laun. The gentleman himself, young Master Thomas, Environ'd with his furious myrmidons (The fiery fiddler and myself), now singing, Now beating at the door, there parleying. Courting at that window, at the other scaling, And all these several noises to two trenchers. Strung with a bottom '' of brown thread, which sliewM admirable.
Seb. There ; eat, and grow again : I am pleasM.
\_Gives him money.
Lau7i. Nor here, sir. Gave we the frolic over, though at length We quit the lady's sconce ^ on composition ; But to the silent streets we turn'd our furies : A sleeping watchman here we stole the shoes from, There made a noise, at which he wakes, and follows ;
* leers and leerings'^ Here Reed cites, fi-om Jonson's New Inn, act iv. sc. 3, a passage which contains the expression " leer drunkards", but which certainly affords no illustration to our text. " I take ' leers and leerings ' to mean ogling at a distance, an effect of bashfulness. The servant would insinuate that his master addressed his mistress in a more manly manner." Heath (MS. Notes) : and so Nares explains the words in the present passage—" sly looks, oglings of quiet courtship." Gloss, in v. •> u-hohub} See note, p. 60.
c hose} i. e. breeches.
'' a bottom'] i.e. an end (pi-operly, a ball).
^ sconce} i. e. fortification.
SCENE 11.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 375
The streets are dirty, takes a Queenhithe cold ', Hard cheese, and that, chokes him o' ^londay next : ^Vindo^vs and signs we sent to Erebus : A crew of bawling curs we entertain'd last, When having let the pigs loose in out-parishes, Oh, the brave cry we made as high as Aldgate ! Down comes a constable, and the sow his sister Most traitorously tramples upon authority : There a whole stand of rug gowns routed mainly ?, And the king's peace put to flight ; a purblind pig here Runs rae his head into the admiral's lanthorn '^ ; Out goes the light, and all turns to confusion : A potter rises to inquire this passion ; A boar imbost' takes sanctuary in his shop, AMicn twenty dogs rush after, we still cheering ; Down go the pots and pipkins, down the pudding-pans, The cream-bowls cry revenge here, there the candlesticks ! Seb. [^svigs.'] If this be ti-ueJ, thou little tiny page,
This tale that thou tell'st me, Then on thy back will I presently hang
A handsome new livei-y ;
' Queenhithe cold] " The inhabitants near Queenhithe, which is situated at the bottom of Queen-street, Cheapside, and wliei'e a square piece of ground is still left muddy and damp at the ebbing of the tide, were not unlikely to be peculiarly subject to agues and severe catarrhs." Weber
B mainly] Mason's correction ; and so Gifford with a pencil in a copy of ed. 1778. — Both the 4to and the lolio " manly" ; and so the raodei'n editors.
^ adniiraVs lanthorn] Seward's con-ection. — Both the 4to and the folio "Admi- rable Lanthorne". — There can be no doubt that Seward was right in making this alteration. The allusion is to the lantern carried by the admiral (i. e. capital ship) : so Falstaff says to Bardolph, " Thou art our admiral, thou bcarest the lantern in the poop", &c. Shakespeare's Henri/ IV. Part First, act iii. so. 3.
i imbost] A hunting term. " When he [the hart] is foamy at the mouth, we say that he is embost." Turbervile's Noble Art of Venerie, p. 24 1. ed. 161 1 , — and see Richardson's Diet, in v.
i If this be true, &c.] " In Dr. Fercy'a Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. iii.
p. 67, is an old ballad, entitled Little Mtisgrave and Lady Barnard, from w Inch
we shall exti'act two stanzas, which Sebastian seems to have intended to
imitate :
' If it be ti'cwc, thou tiney foot-page,
This talc thou hast told to mee.
Then ail my lands in Ducklcsf<jrd-Bury
I freelye will give to thee.
376 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act iv.
But if this be false, thou little tiny page,
As false it well may be, Then with a cudgel of four foot long
I '11 beat thee from head to toe ''.
Enter Second Servant. Will the boy come ? Sec. Serv. He will, sir. Seb. Times tries all, then. Laun. Here he comes now himself, sir.
Enter Thomas.
Seb. To be short, Thomas, Because I feel a scruple in my conscience Concerning thy demeanour, and a main one, And therefore, like a father, would be satisfied, Get up to that window there, and presently. Like a most complete gentleman, come from Tripoly '.
T/io, Good Lord, sir, how are you misled ! what fancies — Fitter for idle boys and drunkards, let me speak 't,
' But if [read And if] it be a lye, thou tiney foot-page,
This tale thou hast told to mee, On the highest tree in Bucklesford-Bury
All hanged shalt thou bee.' " Reed.
lu the later eds. of Percy's Rel., we find " tiney " altered to " little " in both the stanzas just cited.
k I'll beat thee from head to toe] Qy. " From head to foe I'll beat thee" ?
' come from Tripoli/] " In Ben Jonson's Silent Woman, act v. scene i., La-Foole says, 'I protest, Sii* John, you come as high from Tripoly as I do, every whit,' &c. Upon which passage Mr. Whalley observes, that, To come as high from Tripoly, was a phrase then in use, to signify doing feats of activity and strength, and that Tripoly was famous for the justs and tourna- ments held there in the days of chivalry ; and from those feats the phrase was perhaps derived." Reed. "1 think not: 'justs and tournaments', wherever held, were grave and serious amusements, and could scarcely give name to such apish tricks as leaping over sticks, &c. It seems far more probable that the phrase grew out of one of those jests nominal, (as Owen Feltham calls them,) of which our ancestors were so fond ; and that the sole claim which Tripoly has to tho houour conferred upon it, lies in the first part of its name." Gifford's note on B. Jonsou's Works, iii. 472. Nai-es in his Gloss, gives, « Tripoly, to come from. To vault and tumble with activity. It was, 1 believe, first applied to the tricks of an ape or monkey, which might be supposed to come from that part of the world."
SCENE II.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 377
And with a little wonder, I beseech you — Choke up your noble judgment !
Seb. You rogue, Launcelot, You lying rascal !
Laun. Will you spoil all again, sir ? Why, what a devil do you mean ?
Tho. Away, knave ! — You keep a company of saucy fellows, Debosh'd'^ and daily drunkards, to devour you. Things whose dull souls tend to the cellar only : You are ill advis'd, sir, to commit your credit —
Seh. Sirrah, sirrah !
Laun. Let me never eat again, sir, Nor feel the blessing of another blue coat ', If this young gentleman, sweet Master Thomas, Be not as mad as heart can wish, your heart, sir ; If yesternight's discourse — Speak, fellow Robin; And, if thou speak'st less than truth
Tho. ^Tis strange these varlets
Sew. By these ten bones ™, sir, if these eyes and ears Can hear and see
Tho. Extreme strange — should thus boldly, And in your sight, unto your son — "
•< Debosh'd] i. e. debauched.
' blue coat] " Blue was the usual colour in which servants were dressed at the time." Weber.
" ten bones] " i. e. the fingers." Weber.
" should thus boldly,
And in your sight, unto your son — ] Both the 4to and the folio thus ;
" should thus boldly Bud iri your sight, unto your sonne." And so the modern editors. Seward and the Editors of 1778 have no note on the passage. Weber says, that " the sense of ' Bud' is sufficiently obvious, meaning to upbraid or calumniate " ! ! ! Mason observes ; " ' Bud unto your son' is an expression I cannot understand. Bonder in French is to pout or look gruffly : perhaps our authors formed an English verb fi'om it, and we ought to read 'Boude' instead of 'Bud'. We find the same expression, according to my idea of the passage, in Tlie Humorous Lieutenant [see note, vol. vi. 455]." Nares (Gloss, in v.) remarks that here "' 3ud' seems to be put for to lie, if the passage be not corrupt, which I should tlimk it is." That "Bud " is an error of the transcriber or original conipositoi", is evident ; and that the poet wrote " And" (the speech being interrupted by Launcelot), I have little doubt.
■M8 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act iv,
Laun. Oh, Deti guin " / Can you deny you beat a constable Last night ?
Tlio. I touch authority, you rascal ! I violate the law !
Laun. Good Master Thomas —
Serv. Did you not take two wenches from the watcli too, And put 'em into Pudding-Lane ?
Laun. We mean not Those civil things you did at Master Valentine's, The fiddle and the fa-las.
Tho. Oh, strange impudence ! — I do beseech you, sir, give no such licence To knaves and drunkards, to abuse your son thus : Be wise in time, and turn 'em off. We live, sir, In a state govern'd civilly and soberly. Where each man's actions should confirm the law, Not crack and cancel it.
Seh. Launcelot du Lake, Get you upon adventures ! cast your coat, And make your exit.
Laun. Pour Vamoui- de Dieu !
Seh. Pur me no purs ; but pur at that door : out, sirrah ! I '11 beat you purblind else ; out, you eight languages !
Laun. [ To Thomas'] My blood upon your head ! [ Exit.
Tho. Purge me 'em all, sir.
Seb. And you, too, presently.
Tho. Even as you please, sir.
Seb. Bid my maid-servant[s] come, and bring my daughter : I will have one shall please me. [Exeunt Servants.
Tho. 'Tis most fit, sir.
Seb. Bring me the money there ! — Here, Master Thomas;
Enter two Servants, with two bags. I pray, sit down ; you are no more my sou^now ; Good gentleman, be cover'd ^. [Exe?int Servant.^.
° Deu guin] " Duw guin is the Welch ejaculation here designed, meaning literally white God." Ed. 1778. Seward silently printed « Dieu yuarde " ! ^ be covered] i. e. put on your hat.
SCENE ii.J MONSIEUR THOMAS. 379
Tho. At your pleasure.
Seb. This money I do give you, because of whilom i' You have been thought my son, and by myself too, And some things done like me : you are now another : There is two hundred pound, a civil sum For a young civil "^ man : much land and lordship Will, as I take it, now but prove temptation To dread ' you from your settled and sweet carriage.
Tho. You say right, sir.
Seb. Nay, I beseech you cover.
Tho. At your dispose. And I beseech you too, sir, For the word civil, and more settled course, It may be put to use% that on the interest, Like a poor gentleman
Seb. It shall, to my use, To mine again ; do you see, sir \ good fine gentleman, I give no brooding-money for a scrivener ; Mine is for present traffic, and so I '11 use it.
Tho. So much for that, then.
Enter Dorothea and four Maids.
Seh. For the main cause, Monsieur, I sent to treat with you about, behold it ; Behold that piece of story-work, and view it. I want a right heir to inherit me, Not my estate alone, but my conditions^. From which you are revolted, therefore dead ; And I will break my back, but I will get one.
Tho. Will you choose there, sir ?
Seh. There, among those damsels, In mine own tribe : I know their qualities. Which cannot fail to please me : for their beauties, A matter of a three-farthings makes all perfect, A little beer and beef-broth : they are sound too.
p whilom'\ I. e. formerly. ^ civil'\ See note, p. 321.
' dread'\ i. e. fright, scare — if the text be right. Seward conjectures " draw " drive ", or " drag ". ' f<se] i. e. usury. ' conditions] Sec note, p. 119.
380 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act iv.
Stand all a-breast. Now, gentle Master Thomas,
Before I choose, you having liv'd long with me. And happily sometimes with some of these too (Which fault I never frownM upon), pray, shew me (For fear we confound our genealogies) Which have you laid aboard ; speak your mind freely. Have you had copulation with that damsel ?
Tho. I have.
Seb. Stand you aside, then. — How with her, sir \
Tho. How, is not seemly here to say.
Dor. Here's fine sport ! \^Aside.
Seb. Retire you too.' — Speak forward, Master Thomas.
Tho. I will, and to the purpose ; even with all, sir.
Seb. With all ! that 's somewhat large.
Dor. And yet you like it. Was ever sin so glorious " ? [Aside.
Seb. With all, Thomas !
Tho. All surely, sir.
Seb. A sign thou art mine own yet. — In again all, and to your several functions ! [Exeimi Maids. What say you to young Luce, my neighbour's daughter ? She was too young, I take it, when you travelled ; Some twelve year old.
Tho. Her will was fifteen, sir.
Seb. A pretty answer ! To cut off long discourse, For I have many yet to ask you of, Where I can choose and nobly, hold up your finger When you are right. What say you to Valeria, Whose husband lies a-dying now ? — Why two. And in that form ?
Tho. Her husband is recover'd.
Seb. A witty moral ! Have at you once more, Thomas ! The sisters of St. Albans 'i — All five ! dat, boy, Dat 's mine own boy !
Dor. Now, out upon thee, monster ! [Aside.
Tho. Still hoping of your pardon.
Seb. There needs none, man ;
"glorious] " i. c. proud, boastful." Weder.
SCENE II.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 381
A straw on pardon ! prithee, need no pardon.
I 'II ask no more, nor think no more of marriage,
For, o' my conscience, I shall be thy cuckold. —
There's some good yet left in him [Aside].— Bear yourself well;
You may recover me : there 's twenty pound, sir. —
I see some sparkles which may flame again. — [Jside.
You may eat with me when you please : you know me. [Exit.
Dor. Why do you lie so damnably, so foolishly ?
Tho. Dost thou long to have thy head broke I hold thy peace, And do as I would have thee, or, by this hand, I '11 kill thy parrot, hang up thy small hound^ And drink away thy dowry to a penny.
Dor. Was ever such a wild ass ?
Tho. Prithee, be quiet.
Dor. And dost thou think men will not beat thee mon- strously For abusing their wives and children 1
Tho. And dost thou think Men's wives and children can be abus'd too much 1
Dor. I wonder at thee.
Tho. Nay, thou shalt adjure me Before I have done.
Dor. How stand you with your mistress ?
Tho. I shall stand nearer Ere I be twelve hours older. There 's my business : She is monstrous subtle, Doll.
Dor. The devil, I think, Cannot out-subtle thee.
Tho. If he play fair play. Come, you must help me presently.
Dor. I discard you.
Tho. Thou shalt not sleep nor eat.
Dor. I '11 no hand with you. No bawd to your abuses.
Tho. By this light, Doll, Nothing but in tho way of honesty.
" hound] Seward's correction, and an obvious one. — Botli the 4to and the folio " hand ".
382 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act iv.
Dor. Thou never knew'st that road : I hear your vigils.
Tho. Sweet honey Doll — if I do not marry her, Honestly marry her ; if T mean not honourably — Come, thou shalt help me — take heed how you vex me ! I '11 help thee to a husband too, a fine gentleman, (T know thou art mad,) a tall young man, a brown man ; I swear he has his maidenhead ; a rich man
Do?'. You may come in to dinner, and I '11 answer you.
Tho. Nay, I '11 go with thee, Doll. Four hundred a-year, wench ! [Exeunt.
SCENE 111.— A street.
Enter Michael and Valentine
Mich. Good sir, go back again, and take my counsel : Sores are not cur'd by sorrows, nor time broke from us Pull'd back again by sighs.
Fal. What should I do, friend ?
Mich. Do that that may redeem you, go back quickly Sebastian's daughter can prevail much with her ; The abbess is her aunt too.
Val. But my friend, then, Whose love and loss is equal tied ?
Mich. Content you ; That shall be my task : if he be alive, Or where my travel and my care may reach him, I '11 bring him back again.
Val. Say he come back To piece his poor friend's life out, and my mistress Be vow'd for ever a recluse ?
Mich. So suddenly She cannot ; haste you therefore instantly away, sir. To put that danger^ by. First, as to a father. Then as a friend, she was committed to you, And all the care she now has : by which privilege She cannot do herself^ this violence. But you may break it, and the law allows you.
* danger] Both the 4to and the folio " daughter". 7 herse/f] Both the 4to and th^ folio "hcv".
-I- IV.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 38;i
Val Oh, but I forc'd her to it !
Mich. Leave disputing Against yourself : if you will needs be miserable, Spite of her goodness, and your friend's persuasions, Think on, and thrive thereafter.
Val. I will home, then, And follow your advice ; and, good, good Michael —
Mich. No more ; I know your soul 's divided, Valentine : Cure but that part at home with speedy marriage, Ere my return ; for then those thoughts that vex'd her. While there ran any stream for loose affections, VsWl be stopt up, and chaste-ey'd honour guide her. Away ! and hope the best still. I '11 work for you, And pray, too, heartily : away ! no more words.
\_Exeunt severally.
SCENE \Y.— Another street.
Enter Hylas and Sam.
Hylas. I care not for my broken head : But that it should be his plot, and a wench too, A lousy lazy wench prepared to do it !
Sam. Thou hadst as good be quiet ; for, o' my conscience, He '11 put another on thee else.
Hylas. I am resolv'd To call him to account. Was it not manifest He meant a mischief to me, and laugh'd at me. When he lay roaring out his leg was broken, And no such matter ? Had he broke his neck, Indeed 't would ne'er ha' griev'd me. Gallows gall him ! Why should he choose out me ?
Sam. Thou art ever ready To thrust thyself into these she-occasions. And he as full of knavery to accept it.
Hylas. Well, if I live, I '11 have a new trick for him,
Sam. That will not be amiss ; but to fight with him Is to no purpose : besides, he's truly valiant, And a most deadly hand ; thou never fought'st yet. Nor, o' my conscience, hast no faith in fighting.
Hylas. No, no, I will not fight.
384 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act it
Sam. Besides the quarrel, Which has a woman in 't, to make it scurvy, Who would lie stinking in a surgeon's hands A month or two this weather ? for, believe it, He never hurts under a quarter's healing.
H7/las. No ; upon better thought, I will not fight, Sam, But watch my time.
Sam. To pay him with a project ; Watch him too, I would wish you. Prithee, tell me, Dost thou affect these women still ?
Hylas. Yes, fajth, Sam, I love 'em even as well as e'er I did ; Nay, if my brains were beaten out, I must to 'em.
Sam. Dost thou love any woman ?
Hylas. Any woman, Of what degree or calling.
Sam. Of any age too ?
Hylas. Of any age, from fourscore to fourteen, boy ; Of any fashion.
Sam. And defect too?
Hylas. Right ; For those I love, to lead me to repentance : A woman with no nose, after my surquedry^-. Shews like King Philip's moral, Memento mori ; And she that has a wooden leg demonstrates, " Like hypocrites, we halt before the gallows" ; An old one, with one tooth, seems to say to us, " Sweet meats have sour sauce " ; she that ""s full of aches, " Crumb not your bread before you taste your porridge " : And many morals we may find.
Sam. 'Tis well, sir. You make so worthy uses. But, quid igitur ? What shall we now determine 1
Hylas. Let 's consider An hour or two how I may fit this fellow.
Sam. Let 's find him first; he '11 quickly give occasion : But take heed to yourself, and say I warn'd you ; He has a plaguy pate.
Hylas. That at my danger. [Exewit.
^ surquedry] i. e. pride, presumption, overweening conceit.
SCENE v.] MONSIEUR THOMAS, 385
SCENE Y.— A harbour.
Enter, on one side, Sailors singing ; on the other, Michael.
Sailors. Aboard, aboard ! the wind stands fair.
Mich. These call for passengers ; I '11 stay and see What men they take aboard. [Aside.
Enter Francisco.
Fran. A boat, a boat, a boat !
First Sail. Away, then !
Fran. Whither are ye bound, friends I
First Sail. Down to the Straits.
Mich. Ha ! 'tis not much unlike him. [Aside.
Fran. May I have passage for my money I . First Sail. And welcome too.
Mich. 'Tis he ; I know 'tis he now. [Aside.
Fran. Then, merrily aboard ! — and, noble friend. Heaven's goodness keep thee ever ! and all virtue Dwell in thy bosom, Cellide ! my last tears I leave behind me thus, a sacrifice, For I dare stay no longer to betray ye, [Aside.
Mich. Be not so quick, sir. — Sailors, I here charge ye, By virtue of this warrant, as you will answer it (For both your ship and merchant I know perfectly), Lay hold upon this fellow.
Fran. Fellow !
Mich. Ay, sir.
First Sail. No hand to sword, sir ; we shall master you.— Fetch out the manacles !
Fran. I do obey ye. — But, 1 beseech you, sir, inform me truly How I am guilty.
Mich. You have robb'd a gentleman. One that you are bound to for your life and being ; Money and horse unjustly you took from him, And something of more note : but, for you're a gentleman
Fran. It shall be so ; and here I '11 end all miseries. Since friendship is so cruel [Aside]. — I confess it. And, which is more, a hundred of these robberies ; This ring I stole too from him, and this jewel,
VOL. VII. (■ c
386 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act iv.
The first and last of all my wealth. — Forgive me,
My innocence and truth, for saying I stole 'em !
And may they prove of value but to recompense |
The thousandth part of his love, and bread I have eaten ! — '
[Aside. Pray, see 'em rendered, noble sir ; and so [^Gives ring and jewel. I yield me to your power.
Mich. Guard him to the water, I charge you, sailors ; there I will receive him, And back convey him to a justice.
First Sail. Come, sir ; Look to your neck ; you are like to sail i' th' air now.
\_Exeiint.
SCENE VI. — A room in the house of Sebastian.
Thomas discovered in woman's clothes ; Dorothea and Maid.
Tho. Come, quickly, quickly '^l paint me handsomely: Take heed my nose be not in grain •' too : Come, Doll, Doll, dizen me.
Dor. If you should play now Your deviFs parts again ■
Tho. " Yea and nay," Dorothy '.
Dor. If you do any thing, but that you have sworn to, Which only is access
Tho. As I am a gentleman ! Out with this hair, Doll, handsomely.
Dor. You have your breeches ?
Tho. I prithee, away ; thou know'st I am monstrous tick- lish : What, dost thou think I love to blast my buttocks ?
" quickly, quickly] So the folio The 4to "quickly, quickly, quickly" ; and
80 the Editors of 1778 and Weber.
'' in grain'] "i.e. dyed in grain." Weber.
*= " Yea and nay" Dorothy] These words were wrongly pointed and misun- derstood by Seward. — " Tom, by a droll imitation of the fanatics of our authors' time, intimates that his designs are as chaste as those of the religionists whose conversation was Yea, yea, and nay, nay. He makes use of the same expres- sion at his first meeting with Hylas and Sam :
' Do not ye see me altered ? * Yea and nay,' gentlemen ; A much-co7it-crted 7)1071.'' " Ed. 1719.
I
:sCENKvi.| MONSIEUR THOMAS. 387
Dor. I '11 plague you for this roguery ; for I know well What you intend, sir. \^Aside.
Tho. On with ray muffler''.
Dor. You are a sweet lady ! Come, let 's see you curtsey : What, broke i' the bum ? hold up your head.
Tho. Plague on 't, I shall bepiss my breeches, if I cower thus ! Come, am I ready?
Maid. At all points as like, sir, As if you were my mistress.
Dor. Who goes with you ?
Tho. None but my fortune and myself.
Dor. Bless you ! — \_Exit Thomas.
Now run thou for thy life, and get before him (Take the by-way), and tell my cousin ^lary In what shape he intends to come to cozen her ; I '11 follow at thy heels myself : fly, wench !
Maid. I '11 do it. \_Exit.
Enter Sebastian with Thomas.
Dor. My father has met him ; this goes excellent ; And I ''11 away in time. Look to your skin, Thomas !
[_Aside, and then e.vit.
Seb. What, are you grown so corn-fed, goody Gillian, You will not know your father ? what vagaries Have you in hand ? what out-leaps, Dirty-heels, That at these hours of night you must bo gadding, And through the orchard take your private passage ? What, is the breese ^' in your breech ? or has your brother Appointed you an hour of meditation How to demean himself? Get you to bed, drab, Or I '11 so crab your shoulders ^ ! you demure slut. You civil dish of sHc'd beef, get you in !
'' muffler'^ i. e. a sort of wrapper, generally concealing only the lower part of the face, sometimes covering all except the eyes : see the woodcuts in Deuce's Illust. of Shakespeare, i. 76. /
* breese'] Or brize, — i. e. gad-fly.
^ crab your shoulders'] "i. e. beat tiiem with a crab-stick." Mason.
c r 2
338 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act iv.
Tho. I wi' not, that I wi' not. Seb. Is 't even so, dame ? Have at you with a night-spell, then ! Tho. Pray, hold, sir.
Seb. St. George^ St. George?, our hadys knight. He ivalks hy day, so does he by night ;
And when he had her found.
He her beat and her bound. Until to him her troth she plight. She icould not stir from him that night.
Tho. Nay, then, have at you with a counter-spell ?
From elves, hobs '\ and fairies, That trouble our dairies, From fire-drakes and fiends. And such as the devil sends, Defend us, good ' Heaven !
{^Knocks doion Sebastian, and exit.
s St. George, St. George, &c.] " This was a celebrated spell against the night- mare, and is introduced, with little variation, by Reginald Scot : — ' If any hear the groaning of the party, speak unto him ; so as he wake him, he is presently relieved. Howbeit, thei-e are magical cures for it ; as, for example —
S. George, S. George, our Ladies knight,
He walkt by day, so did he by night,
Until such time as he her found :
He her beat and he her bound.
Until her troth she to him plight,
He [She] would not come to her [him] that night,
Whei'eas S. George, our Ladies knight, was named three times S. George.'^ Discovery of Witchcraft, Lond. 1665, fol. p. 48. Shakespeare has the same spell with some variations, [very great variations,] in King Lear [act iii. sc. 4] ; ' St. Withold footed thrice the wold ; He met the night-mare and her nine-fold ; Bid her alight. And her troth plight, And, aroint tliee, witch, aroint thee ! '
The spell against elves and goblins, which follows in the text, has the appe.ir- ance of being Fletcher's own composition." Weber.
•^ Ao6s] " i.e. hobgoblins." Weder,
' good] So the folio.— Omitted in the 4to.
I
-E.NEvi.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 3S9
Enter Launcelot.
Laiin. Bless me, master ' ! look up, sir, I beseech you ! Up with your eyes to Heaven !
Seh. [rising^ Up with your nose, sir ! 1 do not bleed. ^Twas a sound knock she gave me ; A plaguy mankind •' girl ! how my brains totter ^^ ! Well, go thy ways ! thou hast got one thousand pound more With this dog-trick. Mine own true spirit in her too.
Laiin. In her ! alas, sir, Alas, poor gentlewoman, she a hand so heavy To knock you like a calf down, or so brave a courage To beat her father ! If you could believe, sir
Seb. Who wouldst thou make me believe it was ? the devil I
Laun. One that spits fire as fast as he sometimes, sir, And changes shapes as often ; your son Thomas. Never wonder ; if it be not he, straight hang me.
Seb. He ! if it be so, I '11 put thee in my will ; and there 's an end on 't.
Laun. I saw his legs ; h'as boots on, like a player, Under his wench"'s clothes ; 'tis he, 'tis Thomas, In his own sister''s clothes, sir, and I can warrant him '.
Seb. No more words, then; we ""ll watch him. Thou 'It not believe, Launco, How heartily glad I am.
Laun. May you be gladder ! But not this way, sir.
Seb. No more words, but watch him. \_Exeunt.
■ Bless me, master ] So the folio. — The 4 to has " Jilesse my master " ; and so Weber. — I suspect that the author wrote " Bless me, my master ! "
j mankind'^ i. e. masculine, mau-like.
'' totter] Both the 4to and the folio " totters."
' can tcarrant him] Both the 4to and the folio " can wast him '' (the original compositor, I suppose, having mistaken " war' " of the MS. for " wast ") — Seward gave in the text " can watch Aim ", and conjectured in a note " canvast him " : the Editors of 1778 adopted the former, Weber the latter altei*atiou. — Mason thought that "the true reading is 'can vouch him '."
390 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act iv.
SCENE VII.— ^ room in the Lodge"^ belonging to Valentine's
house. Enter Mary, Dorothea, mid Maid.
Maty. When comes he ?
Dor. Presently.
Marg. Then get you up, Doll ; Away ! Ill straight come to you lExit Dorothea]. Is all ready ?
Maid. All.
Marg. Let the light stand far enough.
Maid. 'Tis plac'd so.
Marg. Stay you to entertain him to his chamber : But keep close, wench ; he flies at all.
Maid. I warrant you.
Marg. You need no more instruction ?
Maid. I am perfect. [Exeunt.
SCENE Ylll.— Before the same Lodge.
Enter, severally ^ Valentine, and Thomas disguised as before.
Tho. More stops yet ? sure the fiend 's my ghostly father. Old Valentine ! what wind 's in his poop ? \_Aside.
Val. Lady, You are met most happily : oh, gentle Doll, You must now do me an especial favour !
Tho. What is it. Master Valentine ? I am sorely troubled With a salt rheum fain i' my gums.
Val. I '11 tell you, And let it move you equally. My blest mistress. Upon a slight occasion taking anger. Took also (to undo me) your aunt's nunnery, From whence by my persuasion to redeem her Will be impossible ; nor have I liberty To come and visit her. My good, good Dorothy, You are most powerful with her, and your aunt too, And have access at all hours liberally ; Speak now or never for me.
'" A room in the Lodge, &c.] See uote, p. 363.
SCENE VIII.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 391
Tlio. In a nunnery ! That course must not be suffer'd, JSIaster Valentine ; Her mother never knew it. — Rare sport for me ! Sport upon sport ! \^Aside.'\ — By the break of day I '11 meet you ; And fear not, man ; we '11 have her out, I warrant you : I cannot stay now.
Val. You will not break ?
Tho. By no means : Good night.
Val Good night, kind Mistress Doll. lExit,
Tho. This thrives well ; Every one takes me for my sister ; excellent ! This nunnery 's fain so pat, too, to my figure. Where there be handsome wenches, and they shall know it, If once I creep in, ere they get me out again. Stay, here 's the house, and one of her maids.
Enter Maid/rowi the Lodge.
Maid. Who 's there I Oh, Mistress Dorothy ! you are a stranger.
Tho. Still IMistress Dorothy ! this gear will cotton '".
\_Aside.
Maid. Will you walk in, forsooth I
Tho. Where is your mistress ?
Maid. Not very well ; she 's gone to bed : I am glad You are come so fit to comfort her.
Tho. Yes, I '11 comfort her.
Maid. Pray, make not much noise, for she is sure asleep : You know your side ; creep softly in ; your company Will warm her well.
Tho. I warrant thee, I '11 warm her.
Maid. Your brother has been hei'c ; the strangest fellow !
Tho. A very rogue, a rank rogue.
Maid. I '11 conduct you Even to her chamber-door, and there commit you.
\_E.veunt into the house.
'u th\$ gear will cotton] i. c. this matter, business, will succeed, go on pros- perously.
392 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act iv.
SCENE l^.— Before the house of Michael
Enter Michael, Francisco, and Officers,
Mich. Come, sir, for this night I shall entertain you, And Hke a gentleman, howe'er your fortune Hath cast you on the worst part.
Fran. How you please, sir : I am resolv'd ; nor can a joy or misery Much move me now.
Mich. I am angry with myself now For putting this forc'd way upon his patience ; Yet any other course had been too slender. Yet what to think I know not ; for most liberally He hath confess'd strange wrongs, which, if they prove so, Howe'er the other''s long love may forget all, Yet 'twas most fit he should come back, and this way. —
\^Aside. Drink that ; and now to my care leave your prisoner ;
\_Gives money to Officers. I '11 be his guard for this night.
First Offi. Good night to your worship.
Mich. Good night, my honest friends. [Exeunt Officers.
Come, sir, I hope There shall be no such " cause of such a sadness As you put on.
jpmw. Faith, sir, my rest is up. And what I now pull ° shall no more afflict me Than if I play'd at span-counter ; nor is my face The map of any thing I seem to suffi^r ; Lighter affections seldom dwell in me, sir.
Mich. A constant gentleman. — Would I had taken A fever, when 1 took this harsh way to disturb him ! —
[Aside. Come, walk with me, sir : ere to-morrow night I doubt not but to see all this blown over. [Exeunt into the house.
" sMc/(] Mason proposes to read "just."
0 my rest is up,
And what I note pull, &c.] See note, p. 112.
SCENE II.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 393
ACT V.
SCENE I. — Before the Lodge belonging to Valentine's fiouse.
Enter Hylas. Hylas. I have doggM his sister, (sure, 'twas she,) And I hope she will come back again this night too : Sam I have lost of purpose : now, if I can. With all the art I have, as she comes back, But win a parley for my broken pate, Off goes her maidenhead, and there's vindicta ! They stir about the house ; I '11 stand at distance. [Exit.
SCENE II. — A bed-chamber in the same. Kate, a blackamoor, discovered in bed.
Enter Mary and Dorothea. Dor. Is he come in ! Mary. Speak softly ; He is, and there he goes. [.They retire.
Enter Thomas disguised as before, and Maid who remains at the door.
Tlio. Good night, ^' good night, wench. Maid. As softly as you can.
I' Tho. Good night, &c.] Both the 4to and the folio thus ;
" Tho. Good night, good night, wench.
[A bed discovered with a black More in it.
Maid. As softly as you can. Exit."
There being no moveable painted scenery wlieu this play was originally pro- duced, the audience were to suppose that the stage ropresented the outside of Mary's bed-chamber till the exit of the Maid (see before, p. 391 —
" Maid. I'll conduct you
Even to her chamber-door, an^ there commit you.") ; after which, a bed being "discovered" (i.e. either by drawing back a curtain which concealed it, or by thrusting it on, see note, vol. i. 406), they were to imagine that they beheld the interior of the bed-chamber.
394 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act v.
Tho. I Ml play the mouse, Nan. — [^Exit Maid.
How close the little thief lies !
Mary. How he itches !
Dor. What would you give now to be there, and T At home, MalH
Mary. Peace, for shame !
Tho. In what a figure The little fool has pull'd itself together ! Anon you will lie straighter. Ha ! there 's rare circumstance Belongs to such a treatise. Do you tumble ? I '11 tumble with you straight, wench. She sleeps soundly. Full little think'st thou of the"" joy that's coming, The sweet, sweet joy ! full little of the kisses ; But those unthought-of things come ever happiest. How soft the rogue feels ! Oh, you httle villain, You delicate coy thief, how I shall thrum you ! Your " Fie ! away, good servant ! as you are a gentle- man ! "
Mary. Prithee, leave laughing.
Tho. " Out upon you, Thomas ! What do you mean to do ? I '11 call the house up ! Oh, God, I am sure you will not ! " shall not serve you, For up you go now, an you were my father.
Mary. Your courage will be cooFd anon.
Tho. If I do hang for 't p, Yet I '11 be quarter'd here first.
Dor. Oh, fierce villain !
Mary. What would he do indeed, Doll?
Dor. You had best try him.
Tho. I '11 kiss thee, ere I come to bed, sweet Mary —
Mary. Prithee, leave laughing.
Dor. Oh, for gentle Nicholas i !
° the'] Both 4to and the foHo " thy" ; and so the modern editors.
" If I do hang for 'q The 4to has " //it do hang for ' " (the /, which should have followed "for ' ", having been jumbled out of its place, and joined to the
second word of the sentence — the pronoun " /") The folio has " //it do I '11
hayig for '/."
1 Oh, for (jcittle Nicholas] Qy. is this an allusion to Chaucer's Milleres Tale i see what befalls Nicholas in the concluding portion of it.
ft
SCENE II.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 395
Tho. And view that stormy face that has so thundered me. — A Coldnees crept over 't now I — By your leave, candle, And next, door, by yours too : so. — Ah ', pretty, pretty, Shall I now look upon you ? — By this light, it moves me !
Mary. Much good may it do you, sir !
Tho. Holy saints defend me ! The devil, devil, devil ' ! oh, the devil !
Mary. Dor. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! the devil ! oh, the devil !
Tho. I am abus'd most damnedly, most beastly ! Yet, if it be a she-devil— but the house is up, And here 's no staying longer in this cassock. — Woman, I here disclaim thee ! and, in vengeance, I '11 marry with that devil, but I '11 vex thee !
Mary. By 'r lady, but you shall not, sir ; I '11 watch you.
Tho. Plague o' your Spanish leather hide ! I '11 waken you. Devil, good night ! good night, good devil ! \^Beats Kate.
Kate. Oh!
Tho. Roar again, devil, roar again.
Kate. Oh, oh, sir ! [Exit Thomas.
Mary. Open the doors before him ; let him vanish ! —
[To those iclthin. Now, let him come again, I '11 use him kinder. — How now, wench ?
Kate. Pray, lie here yourself next, mistress. And entertain your sweetheart.
Mary. What said he to thee ?
Kate. I had a soft bed, and I slept out all But his kind farewell : you may bake me now, . For, o' my conscience, he has made me venison.
Mary. Alas, poor Kate ! I ""ll give thee a new petticoat.
Dor. And I a waistcoat, wench.
Mary. Draw in the bed, maids, [ To those within.
And see it made again ; put fresh sheets on, too. For Doll and I. — Come, wench, let's laugh an hour now. To-morrow, early, will we see young Cellide ;
' Ah] Both the 4to and the foho "a" y and so the modern editors. • The devil, devil, devil] So the folio.— Tlie 4to " The devill, devil/, dcvill, deviil" ; and so the Editor.s of 1778 and Wci)er.
396 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act v.
They say she has taken sanctuary : love and hay ^ Are thick sown, but come up so full of thistles !
Dor. They must needs, Mall, for 'tis a pricking age grown. Prithee, to bed, for I am monstrous sleepy.
Mary. A match ; but art not thou thy brother ?
Dor. Would I were, wench ! You should hear further.
Mary. Come; no more of that, Doll. \^Exeunt.
SCENE III.— Before the same Lodge.
Enter Hylas. Hylas. I heard the doors clap ; now^ an't be thy will, wench
By the mass, she comes.
Enter, from the house, Thomas disguised as before.
You are fairly met ", fair gentlewoman : I take it Mistress Doll, Sebastian's daughter.
Tho. You take it right ^, sir. — Hylas, are you ferreting ? I '11 fit you with a penny-worth presently. [Aside.
Hylas. How dare you walk so late, sweet, so weak-guarded ?
Tho. Faith, sir, I do no harm, nor none I look for ; Yet I am glad I have met so good a gentleman. Against all chances ; for though I never knew you, Yet I have heard much good spoke of you.
Hylas. Hark you ; What, if a man should kiss you ?
Tho. That 's no harm, sir. — Pray God he scapes my beard ! there lies the mischief.
\_Aside. — Hylas kisses him.
Hylas. Her lips are monstrous rugged ; but that surely
' love and hayl Seward's correction.— Both the 4 to and the foHo have " love and they."
» fairly met] So the Editors of 1778 and Weher.— The 4to has "surely melt." The folio reads "surely met " ; and so Seward.
" Vou take it riyhf] Seward's correction.— Both the -Ito and the folio " I Ink'' right." Perhaps the author wrote " Ay, you take right."
SCENE III.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 397
Is but the sharpness of the weather [Aside]. — Hark you, once
more, And in your ear, sweet mistress ; for you are so, And ever shall be from this hour, — I have vowM it. [Whispers.
Enter Sebastian and Launcelot.
Seh. Why, that 's my daughter, rogue ; dost thou not see her Kissinff that fellow there, there in that corner ?
Laim. Kissing !
Seh. Now, now ; now they agree o' the match too.
Tho. Nay, then, you love me not.
Hylas. By this white hand, Doll !
Tho. I must confess, I have long desir'd your sight, sir.
Laun. Why, there 's the boots still, sir.
Seh. Hang boots, sir ! Why, they'll wear breeches too.
Tho. Dishonest me ! Not for the world.
Seh. Why, now they kiss again ; there ! I knew 'twas she, and that her crafty stealing Out the back way must needs have such a meaning.
Laun. I am at my small wits' end.
Tho. If you mean honourably
Laun. Did she ne'er beat you before, sir ?
Seh. Why dost thou follow me ? Thou rascal slave, hast thou not twice abus'd me ? Hast thou not spoil'd the boy I By thine own covenant, Wouldst thou not now be hangM ?
Laun. I think I would, sir ; But you are so impatient ! Does not this shew, sir, — I do beseech you speak, and speak with judgment. And let the case be equally considered, — Far braver in your daughter I In a son, now, Tis nothing, of no mark, every man does it ; But to beget a daughter, a man*maiden, That reaches at these high exploits, is admirable ; Nay, she goes far beyond him ; for when durst he,
398 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act v.
But when he was drunk, do any thing to speak of? This is Sebastian truly.
Seb. Thou say'st right, Launce ; And there's my hand once more.
Tho. Not without marriage.
Seb. Didst thou hear that ?
Laun. I think she spoke of marriage.
Seb. And he shall marry her (for it seems she likes him), And their first boy shall be my heir.
Laun. Ay, marry. Now you go right to work.
Tho. Fie, fie, sir ! Now I have promised you this night to marry, Would you be so intemperate ? are you a gentleman ?
Hylas. I have no maw to marriage, yet this rascal Tempts me extremely YAside'\. — Will you marry presently?
Tho. Get you afore, and stay me at the chapel, Close by the nunnery ; there you shall find a night-priest. Little Sir^ Hugh, and he can say the matrimony Over without book ; for we must have no company, Nor light, for fear my father know, which must not yet be : And then to-morrow night
Hylas. Nothing to-night, sweet I
Tho. No, not a bit. I am sent of business. About my dowry, sweet ; do not you spoil all now ; 'Tis of much haste ; I can scarce stay the marriage : Now, if you love me, get you gone.
Hylas. You '11 follow ?
Tho. Within this hour, my sweet chick.
Hylas, Kiss ^.
Tho. A rope kiss you ! — lAside.
Come, come ; I stand o' thorns.
Hylas. ]\Iethinks her mouth still Is monstrous rough ; but they have ways to mend it. —
[Aside. Farewell.
" Sir"} A title formerly given to clergymen. See before, vol. iii. 17. " Hylas. Kiss] I suspect that this is a stage-direction, which has crept into the text by mistake.
n
SCENE IV.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 399
Tho. Farewell {_Exit Hylas]. — I '11 fit you with a wife, sir.
{Exit.
Seh. Come, follow close ; I '11 see the end she aims at, And, if he be a handsome fellow, Launcelot, Fiat, 'tis done ! and all my state ^ is settled. [Exeunt.
I
SCENE IV. — A hall in the Nunnery of St. Katherim's.
Enter Abbess, Cellide, and Nuns.
Abbess. Come ; to your matins, maids. — These early hours, ]\Iy gentle daughter, will disturb a while Your fair eyes, nurtur'd in ease.
Cel. N,o, virtuous mother, 'Tis for my holy health ; to purchase which They shall forget the child of ease, soft slumbers. — Oh, my afflicted heart, how thou art tortur'd ! And, Love, how like a tyrant thou reign'st in me. Commanding and forbidding at one instant ! Why came I hither, that desire to have Only all liberty to make me happy ?
Why didst thou bring that young man home, oh, Valentine, That virtuous youth ? why didst thou speak his goodness In such a phrase as if all tongues, all praises, Were made for him ? Oh, fond^^ and ignorant, Why didst thou foster my affection Till it grew up to know no other father. And then betray it ? [Aside.
Abbess. Can you sing ?
Cel. Yes, mother,
My sorrows only. [Aside.
Abbess. Be gone, and to the quire, then.
[Exeunt. Music and singing within.
^ state] i. e. estate. ^ fond] i. e. foolish.
400 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act v.
SCENE V. — A room in (he house of Michael,
Enter Michael, Francisco, and Servant.
Mich. Hast thou inquire! him out i
Sew. He 's not at home, sir ; His sister thinks he 's gone to the nunnery.
Mich. Most Hkely ; I ""ll away. An hour hence, sirrah, Come you along with this young gentleman ; Do him all service and fair office.
Serv. Yes, sir. [Exeunt.
SCENE Yl.— A street.
Enter Hylas and Sam.
Sam. Where hast thou been, man ?
Hylas. Is there ne'er a shop open ? I '11 give thee a pair of gloves, Sam.
Sam. What 's the matter ?
Hylas. What dost thou think ?
Sam. Thou art not married ?
Hylas. By the mass, but I am, all-to-be-married * ; I am i' th' order now, Sam.
Sam. To whom, prithee ? I thought there was some such ^ trick in 't, you stole from mo : But who, for Heaven-sake ?
Hylas. Even the sweetest woman, The rarest woman, Samuel, and the lustiest ; But wondrous honest, honest as the ice, boy, (Not a bit beforehand, for my life, sirrah,) And of a lusty kindred.
Sain. But who, Hylas ?
Hylas. The young gentleman and I are like to be friends again ;
" all-to-be-married'] Equivalent to — thoroughly married. Both the 4to and the folio "alllo be married" ; and so Seward and Weber. The Editors of 1778 pi'inted " all to being married " ; Mason proposed reading " altogether married " ; and Weber conjectured that the poet might have written " all now are to be married" !!!
'' some such'] Weber chose to print " so much " !
I
SCENE VII.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 401
The Fates will have it so.
vSayn. Who, Monsieur Thomas ?
Hylas. All wrongs forgot.
Sa7n. Oh, now I smell you, Hylas ! Does he know of it ?
Hylas. No, there 's the trick I owe him : 'Tis done, boy ; we are fast, faith : my youth now Shall know I am aforehand, for his qualities.
Sam. Is there no trick in 't I
Hylas. None, but up and ride, boy : I have made her no jointure neither ; there I have paid him.
Sam. She 's a brave wench.
Hylas. She shall be, as I '11 use her ; And, if she anger me, all his abuses I '11 clap upon her cassock.
Sam. Take heed, Hylas.
Hylas. 'Tis past that, Sam. Come ; I must meet her presently ; And now shalt "" see me a most glorious husband. \_Exeunf.
SCENE \\\.— Before the Nunnery of St. Katherine" s.
Enter Dorothea, Mary, and Valentine.
Dor. In troth, sir, you never spoke to me.
Val. Can you forget me ? Did not you promise all your help and cunning In my behalf, but for one hour to see her ? Did you not swear it ? By this hand, no strictness Nor rule this house holds shall by me be broken.
Dor. I saw you not these two days.
Val. Do not wrong me : I met you, by my life, just as you enter'd This gentle lady's lodge, last night, thus suited, About eleven o''clock.
Dor. 'Tis true, I was there ; But that I saw or spoke to you
' now shaW] i. e. now thou slialt. — Altered by Seward to " thou shall " ; and so his successors.
VOL. VII. D I)
402 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act v.
Maiij. I have found it ; [Jside to Dorothea.
Your brother Thomas, Doll.
Do)\ Pray, sir, be satisfied, And wherein I can do you good, command me. — What a mad fool is this ! — Stay here a while, sir, Whilst we walk in, and make your peace.
Fal. I thank you.
[Dor. and Mary enter the Nunnery ; exit Val.
SCENE VIII.— ^ hall in the same. Enter Abbess. Squeak zcit/mi. Abbess. Why, what's the matter there among these maids? — Now, benedicite ! — Have ye got the breese ^ there ? Give me my holy sprinkle !
Enter ttco Nuns. • First Nun. Oh, madam, there 's a strange thing like a gen- tlewoman, Like Mistress Dorothy, (I think the fiend,) Crept into the nunnery we know not which way, Plays revel-rout '^ among us.
Abbess. Give me my holy water-pot ' First Nun. Here, madam.
Abbess, [sprinkling water^ Spirit of earth or air, I do con- jure thee,
Of water, or of fire [^SqueaJc within.
First Nun. Hark, madam, hark ! Abbess. Be thou ghost that cannot rest. Or a shadow of the blest. Be thou black, or white, or green,
Be thou heard, or to be seen
Sec. Nun. It comes, it comes !
Enter Thomas disguised as before, and Cellide. Cel. What are you ? speak, speak gently ;
•* hreese^ See note, p. 387.
" revel-rout] Equivalent here to — wild and noisy tricks : from revel a,nd rout (to roar). The word is common in writers anterior to Fletcher's time, and may be found in some of a comparatively recent date.
scK.vE viii.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 403
And next, what would you with me ?
Tlw. Any thing you '11 let me.
Cel You are no woman, certain.
Tho. Nor you no nun, nor shall not be.
Cel. What make you here I
Tho. I am a holy friar.
Abbess. Is this the spirit ?
Tho. Nothing but spirit, aunt.
Abbess. Now, out upon thee !
Tho. Peace, or I '11 conjure too, aunt.
Abbess. Why come you thus?
Tho. That 's all one ; here's my purpose. Out with this nun ! she is too handsome for you : I '11 tell thee, aunt, and I speak it with tears to thee, If thou keep'st her here, as yet I hope thou art wiser, Mark but the mischief follows ! "L Abbess. She is a votress *.
" Tho. Let her be what she will, she will undo thee. Let her but one hour out, as I direct yoU; Or have among your nuns again !
Abbess. You have no project But fair and honest ?
Tho. As thine eyes, sweet abbess.
Abbess. I will be ruFd, then.
Tho. Thus, then, and persuade her — [[ Whispers.
But do not juggle with me ; if you do, aunt
Abbess. I must be there myself.
Tho. Away, and fit her.
Abbess. Come, daughter, you must now be rul'd, or never.
Cel. I must obey your will.
Abbess. That 's my good daughter. \^Exeunt,
' She is a votress'] Weber printed " She 's but a volress " !
D D 2
404 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act t.
SCENE IX.— ^ street.
Enter Dorothea and Mary.
Mary. What a coil has this fellow kept i^ the nunnery ! Sure, he has run the abbess out of her wits.
Dor. Out of the nunnery, I think ; for we can neither see her Nor the young Cellide.
Mary. Pray Heavens he be not teasing ! Dor. Nay, you may thank yourself; 'twas your own struc- tures ^.
Enter Hylas and Sam.
Sam. Why, there 's the gentlewoman.
Hylas. Mass, 'tis she indeed : How smart the pretty thief looks ! — 'Morrow, mistress.
Dor. Good morrow to you, sir.
Sam. How strange'' she bears it !
Hylas. Maids must do so at first.
Dor. Would ye aught with us, gentlemen ?
Hylas. Yes, marry, would I, A little with your ladyship.
Dor. Your will, sir I
Hylas. Doll, I would have you presently prepare Yourself and those things you would have with you ; For my house is ready.
Dor. How, sir !
Hylas. And this night not to fail, you must come to me ; My friends will all be there too. For trunks, and those things. And household-stuff, and clothes, you would have carried, To-morrow or the next day I '11 take order; Only what money you have, bring away with you, And jewels.
Dor. Jewels, sir !
Hylas. Ay, for adornment.
».' structures'^ " We should read* sti'ucture ', i. e. contrivance." Mason, — who is right in his explanation of the word, but certainly wrong in altering it to the singular.
'' strange] i. c. coy, reserved, distant.
SCENE IX.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 405
ThQre 's a bed up to play the game in, Dorothy : And now, come kiss me heartily.
Dor. Who are you ?
Hylas. This lady shall be welcome too.
Mary. To what, sir ?
Hylas. Your neighbour can resolve' you.
Dor. The man 's foolish. — Sir, you look soberly : who is this fellow, And where 's his business ?
Sam. By Heaven, thou art abus'd still.
Hylas. It may be so. — Come, you may speak now boldly ; There 's none but friends, wench.
Dor. Came you out of Bedlam ? — Alas, 'tis ill, sir, that you suffer him To walk in th' open air thus ! 'twill undo him. A pretty handsome gentleman : great pity !
Sayn. Let me not live more^ if thou be'st not cozen'd.
Hylas. Are not you my wife ? did not I marry you last night At St. Michael's Chapel ?
Dor. Did not I say he was mad ?
Hylas. Are not you Mistress Dorothy, Thomas' sister ?
Mary. There he speaks sense: — but I '11 assure you, gentleman, I think no wife of yours. At what hour was it?
Hylas. 'Sprecious, you'll make me mad ! Did not the priest, Sir Hugh, that you appointed, about twelve o'clock Tie our hands fast ? did not you swear you lov'd me ? Did not I court you, coming from this gentlewoman's ?
Mary. Good sir, go sleep ; for, if I credit have, She was in my arms then a-bed.
Sam. I told you.
Hylas. Be not so confident.
Dor. By the mass, she must, sir ; For I '11 no husband here, before I know him : And so, good morrow to you. — Come, let 's go seek 'em.
[E.vit toith Mary.
Sam. I told you what you had done.
Hylas. Is the devil stirring ? Well, go with mc ; for now I will be married. [Exeunt.
' resolve] i. e. satisfy, infonn.
406 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act v.
SCENE X. — A room in the house o/' Valentine.
Enter Michael, Valentine, and Alice.
Mich. I have brought him back again.
Veil. You have done a friendship Worthy the love you bear me.
Mich. Would he had so too !
Val. Oh, he 's a worthy young man !
Mich. When all 's tried, I fear you '11 change your faith. — Bring in the gentleman !
Enter, on one side, Francisco tmd Servant ; on the other, Abbess and Cellide.
Val. My happy mistress too ! Now, Fortune, help me ! And all you stars that govern chaste desires. Shine fair and lovely ! \^Aside.
Abbess. But one hour, dear daughter, To hear your guardian, what he can deliver In love's defence and his ; and then your pleasure.
Cel. Though much unwilling, you have made me yield, — More for his sake I seeJ : how full of sorrow, Sweet catching sorrow, he appears ! Oh, Love, That thou but knew'st to heal, as well as hurt us ! \_Aside.
Midi. Be rul'd by me : I see her eye fast on him : And what you heard believe ; for 'tis so certain He neither dare'' nor must oppose my evidence : — And be you wise, young lady, and believe too. — This man you love, sir I
Val. As I love my soul, sir.
Mich. This man you put into a free possession Of what his wants could ask, or yourself render l
Val. And shall do still.
Midi. Nothing was barr'd his liberty But this fair maid : that friendship first was broken. And you and she abus'd ; next, (to my sorrow
j More for his sake I see^ "i. e. for the sake of Fraueisco, whom she then perceives." Weber (after Mason).
k dare] Both the 4to and the folio " dar'd '' ; and so the modern editors.
SCENE X.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 407
So»fair a form should hide so dark intentions,) He hath himself confessM (my purpose being Only to stop his journey, by that policy Of laying felony to his charge, to fright the sailors) Divers abuses done, thefts often practis'd. Moneys and jewels too, and those no trifles.
Cel. Oh, where have I bestowM ' my faith ? in neither — Let ""s in for ever now [_To the Ahhess~\ — there is virtue'".
Mich. Nay, do not wonder at it ; he shall say it. — Are you not guilty thus?
Fr,an. Yes. — Oh, my fortune ! [Aside.
Mich. To give a proof I speak not enviously ", Look here : do you know these jewels ?
Cel. Li, good mother !
Fal. These jewels I have known.
E7iter Thojuas disguised as he/ore, Dorothea, and Mary ; then Sebastian and Launcelot.
Dor. You have made brave sport !
Tho. I '11 make more, if I live, wench. — Nay, do not look on me ; I care not for you. [ To Mary.
Laim. Do you see now plain ? that 's Mistress Dorothy, And that 's his mistress.
Seb. Peace ; let my joy work easily. — Ha, boy ! art there, my boy? mine own boy, Tom, boy ! — Home, Launce, and strike " a fresh piece of wine ; the town 's ours ! {_Exit Launcelot.
Val. Sure, I have known these jewels.
Alice. They are they, certain.
Val. Good Heaven, that they were !
Alice. I '11 pawn my life on 't ; And this is he. — Come hither, Mistress Dorothy, And Mistress Mary : who does that face look like ? And view my brother well.
Do7-. In truth, like him.
' l/estow'd] Both the 4to and the folio " bestrew'd ". '" there is virtue] Seward prTiited '• there is no virtue ". " enviously] i. e. maliciously. " strike] "' i. e. tap. " Weijeu.
408 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act v.
Mary. Upon my troth, exceeding like.
Mich. Beshrew me, But much and main resemblance, both of face And lineaments of body : now, Heaven grant it !
Alice-. My brother 's full of passion.P 1 '11 speak to him. — Now, as you are a gentleman, resolve '^ me, Where did you get these jewels ?
Fran. Now I '11 tell you, Because blind Fortune yet may make me happy. Of whom I had 'em I have never heard yet, But from my infancy upon this arm I ever wore 'em.
Alice. 'Tis Francisco, brother ; By Heaven, I tied 'em on ! — A little more, sir, A little, little more ; what parents have you ?
Fran. None That I know yet, the more my stubborn fortune ; But, as I heard a merchant say that bred me, Who, to my more affliction, died a poor man, When I reach'd eighteen years
Alice. What said that merchant ?
Fran. He said, an infant in the Genoa galleys, (But from what place he never could direct me,) I was taken in a sea-fight, and from a mariner, Out of his manly pity, he redeem'd me : He told me of a nurse that waited on me, But she, poor soul, he said, was killed. A letter, too, I had inclos'd within me, To one Castruccio, a Venetian merchant, To bring me up : the man, when years allow'd me. And want of friends compell'd, I sought, but found him Long dead before, and all my hopes gone with him. The wars was my retreat then, and my travel, In which I found this gentleman's free bounty, For which Heaven recompense' him ! Now ye have all.
P passion] " i. e. sorrow ; a very usual acceptation of the word in old writers. " Weber. I doubt if here it means more than— violent agitation of mind. 1 rcsolve'\ i. e. satisfy, inform. ' recompense'] Both the 4to and the folio " recompenc'd ".
SCENE X.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 409
Val. And all the worldly bliss that Heaven can send rae, And all my prayers and thanks !
Alice. DoAMi o' your knees, sir ; For now you have found a father, and that father That will not venture you again in galleys.
Mich. 'Tis true, believe her, sir ; and we all joy with you.
Val. My best friend still, my dearest ! now. Heaven bless thee. And make me worthy of this benefit ! — Xow^ my best mistress
Cel. Now, sir, I come to you
Abbess. No, no ; let 's in, wench,
Cel. Not for the world, now, mother : — And thus, sir, all my service I pay to you, And all my love to him.
Val. And may it prosper ! — Take her, Francisco, now no more young CallidonS And love her dearly ; for thy father does so.
Fran. May all hate seek me else ! and thus I seal it.
[^Kisses her.
Val. Nothing but mirth now, friends.
' Take her, Francisco, now no more young Callidon] " There is an iuac'cu- racy in this play ; Frank had been never called Callidon before, but by his own name. Thus, in the second act, Thomas says —
' Who, young Frank.' The only tempered spirit,' &c. But it is very probable that this was the actor's or printer's mistake, who seeing him called Frank in the Persons of the Drama, might call him so here without attending to the sequel ; without which, the name Callidon in that place would not have been intelligible." Seward. " We see no way of clearing the author of this inaccuracy, probably the effect of hasty composition." Ed. 1778. " Both Seward and the last editors accuse the poet of inadvertency in this passage, and with much appearance of justness ; for the young man is always called Frank, throughout the play, and never by the name of Callidon. It also appears from what Alice says in the preceding page —
' 'Tis Francisco, brother ;
By Heaven, I tied 'em on !' that Francisco was the name of the son Valentine had lost, and, of course, the name that he is still to retain. The only way of solving the difficulty is by sup- posing that Francisco had assumed, in hi& travels, the surname of Callidon, though he is not called by it in the play, and tliat Valentine now tells him lie is to keep that name no longer. His travelling name was Francisco Callidon." Mason.
410 MONSIEUR THOMAS. [act v.
Enter Hylas and Sam.
Hylas. Nay, I will find him.
Sam. What do all these here ?
Tho. You are a trusty husband, And a hot lover too.
Hylas. Nay, then, good morrow : Now I perceive the knavery. \^Going.
Sam. I still told you.
Tho. Stay, or I '11 make you stay.— Come hither, sister.
"Fal Why, how now, Mistress Thomas 1
Tho. Peace a Ijttle. — Thou wouldst fain have a wife ?
Hylas. Not I ; by no means.
Tho. Thou shalt have a wife, And a fruitful wife ; for I find, Hylas, That I shall never be able to bring thee children.
Seb. A notable brave boy ! 'nown son again ^ !
Hylas. I am very well, sir.
Tho. Thou shalt be better : Hylas, thou hast seven hundred pound a-year. And thou shalt make her three hundred jointure.
'Hylas. No.
Tho. Thou shalt, boy, and shalt bestow Two hundred pound in clothes. Look on her ; A delicate lusty wench ; she has fifteen hundred, And feasible : strike hands, or 1 11 strike first.
Dor. You '11 let me like ?
Mary. He 's a good handsome fellow ; Play not the fool.
Tho. Strike, brother Hylas, quickly.
Hylas. If you can love me, well.
Dor. If you can please me.
Tho. Try that out soon : I say, my brother Hylas.
Sam. Take her, and use her well; she's a bravo gentle- woman.
' 'noivn son again] The 4to has " known son agen" (separated from the rest of the speech, and printed in Italics). The folio omits these words ; and so Seward.
I
SCENE X.] MONSIEUR THOMAS. 411
Hylas. You must allow me another mistress.
Dor. Then you must allow me another servant.
Hijlas. Well, let 's together, then : a lusty kindred !
Srh. I '11 give thee five hundred pound more for that word.
Mary. Now, sir, for you and I to make the feast full.
Tho. No, not a bit ; you are a virtuous lady, And love to live in contemplation.
Mary. Come, fool ; I am friends now.
Tho. The fool shall not ride you. — There lie my woman ! [^Throws off his female attire.^ Now my
man again ! And now for travel once more !
Seh. I '11 bar that first.
Mary. And I next.
Tho. Hold yourself contented ; for I say I will travel ; And so long I will travel, till I find a father That I never knew, and a wife that I never looked for, And a state " without expectation : So, rest you merry, gentlemen !
Mary. You shall not : Upon my faith, I love you now extremely, And now I '11 kiss you.
Tho. This will not do it, mistress.
Mary. Why, when wo arc married, we '11 do more.
Seb. There 's all, boy. The keys of all I have. Come, let 's be merry ; For now I see thou art right.
Tho. Shall we to church straight ?
Val. Now presently ; and there with nuptial The holy priest shall make ye happy all.
Tho. Away, then, fair afore ! [Exeunt.
" s/rt/e] i. e. estate.
ISLAND PRINCESS.
Hie Island Princesse.
In the folios, 1C47, 1679.
The second folio adds, " A Tragi-Comedy."'
" It appears," says Malone, " from Sir Henry Herbert's Manuscript, that the new plays which Fletcher had brought out in the course of the year, were generally presented at court at Christmas. As therefore The Island Princess, The Pilgrim, and The Wild Goose Chase are found among the court exhibitions of the year 1621, we need not hesitate to ascribe these pieces also to the same poet." Shakespeare (by Boswell), iii. 225.
In a note on his Introduction to The Works ofB. and F., p. li., Weber oljserves ; " There is a Spanish play upon the same subject by ]\Ielchior Fernandez de Leon, entitled La Conquista de las Malaccas. Some part of the plot, which is taken from history, is similar to that of The Island Princess, but there the resemblance ceases."
Subsequent to the Restoration, we find the following alterations of this drama, llie Island Princess : or The Generous Portugal. A Comedy. As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal by His Majesties Servaiits. With the Alterations and New Additional Scenes. Licensed May 31,1669, and printed in 4to during the same year : it is not mentioned in the Biogra- phia Dramatica. — The Island Princess: As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal, Reviv'd with Alterations. By N. Tate, 1687, 4to. — The Island Princess, or The Generous Portuguese. Made into an Opera. As it is performed at the Theatre Royal. All the Musical Entertainments, and the greatest Part of the Play new, and written by Mr. Motteuj; 1699, 4to : the music was composed by Daniel Purcell, Clarke, and Leveridge.
DRAMATIS PERSONiE.
King of Tidore. King of Bakam. Prince of Syana. Governor of Ternata. Armusia, RuY Dias, PiNiERO, his nepheWj
SOZA,
Emanuel,
ClIRISTOPHERO,
Pedro,
^-Portuguese.
Keeper.
Moors.
Captain.
Citizens of Ternata.
Townsmen of Tidore.
Soldiers, Guards, &e.
Quisara, sister to the King of Tidore. QuiSANA, her aunt. Panura, waiting-woman to Quisara. Citizens' Wives.
ScEtiE— Tidore, except diiring the greater part of act ii, when it is Ternata.
The principal actors were—
John Lowin. Joseph Taylor.
John Underwood. Robert Benheld.
William Egglestone. George Birch.
Rich. Sharpe. Tho. Pollard. Fol. 1679-
THE
ISLAND PRINCESS.
ACT I.
SCENE I. — Tidore. Tlte ramparts of the Portuguese Fort. A bell rings within.
Enter Piniero, Christophero, and Pedro.
Pin. Open the ports, and see the watch reUev'tl, And let the guards be careful of their business. Their vigilant eyes fix'd on these islanders : They are false and desperate people ; when they find The least occasion open to encouragement. Cruel and crafty souls. Believe me, gentlemen, Their late attempt, which is too fresh amongst us, In which, against all arms and honesty, The Governor of Ternata made surprise Of our confederate the King of Tidore '', As for his recreation he was rowing Between both lands, bids us be wise and circumspect.
Christ. It was a mischief suddenly imaginM, And as soon done : that governor 's a fierce knave, Unfaithful as ho is fierce too, there 's no trusting. But I wonder much, how such poor and base pleasures As tugging at an oar, or skill in steerage, Should become princes. ^
* The Governor of Ternata made surprise Of our confederate the King of Tidore} " Ternata (or Ternate, as Milton calls it,) Tidore, and Bakan or Bacham, are three of the Molucca Islands." Sympson. VOL. VII. E E
418 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act i.
Pin. Base breedings love base pleasures'' : They take as much delight in a baratto^, (A little scurvy boat,) to row her tithly<^, And have the art to turn and wind her nimbly, Think it as noble too, (though it be slavish, And a dull labour that declines^ a gentleman,) As we Portugals, or the 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 taken ; But where no faith is, there 's no trust ; he has paid for 't. His sister yet, the fair and great Quisara, Has shew'd a noble mind, and much love in 't To her afflicted brother ; and the nobler Still it appears, and seasons of more tenderness, Because his ruin styles her absolute. And his imprisonment adds to her profit. Feeling all this, which makes all men admire her, The warm beams of this fortune that fall on her. Yet has she made divers and noble treaties. And propositions for her brother's freedom, If wealth or honour
Pin. Peace, peace ; you are fool'd, sir : Things of these natures have strange outsides, Pedro, And cunning shadows, set 'em far from us ; Draw 'cm but near, they are gross, and they abuse us. They that observe her close shall find her nature, Which, I doubt mainly, will not prove so excellent : She is a princess, and she must be fair, That 's the prerogative of being royal ;
^ pleasures'] Both the folios " pleasui-e " ; and so the modern editors : but compare what immediately precedes.
c baratto] " An Indian boat." Webek.
"i tithly] i. e. tightly, dextrously (see before, p, 75). So the first folio. — The second folio "tightly" ; and so Sympson and the Editors of 1778.
' declines'] " i. e. debases or degrades." Mason, who compares a passage in The False One, vol. vi. 24C, where, however, the word has a different meaning.
' a great-horse] See note, p. 159.
K courtship] i. c. courtesy, courtly behaviour.
SCENE I.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 419
Let her want eyes and nose, she must be beauteous, And she must know it too, and the use of it, And people must believe it, — they are damn'd else : AVhy, all the neighbour princes'' are mad for her.
Christ. Is she not fair, then ?
Pin. But her hopes are fairer : And there 's a haughty master, the King of Bakam \ That lofty sir that speaks far more and louder In his own commendations than a cannon, He is strucken dumb with her.
Pedro. Beshrew me, she is a sweet one !
Pin. And there 's that hopeful man of Syana, That sprightly fellow, he that 's wise and temperate, He is a lover too.
Christ. Would I were worth her looking ! For, by my life, I hold her a complete one : The very sun, I think, affectsJ her sweetness, And dares not, as he does to all else, dye it Into his tawny livery.
Pin. She dares not see him. But keeps herself at distance from his kisses, And wears'' her complexion in a case : let him but lick' it A week, or two, or three, she would look like a lion.
^ the neighbour princes] So the first folio The second folio has "our neighbor
princes" ; and so Sympson. Weber chose to print "//ie neighbouring /jnVjccs" .'
' Bakam] See note, p. 417. Here, but only here, both the folios have « Bakan ".
J affects] " To affect and to love were frequently used in the same sense." Weber.
^ wears] So the first folio.— Omitted in the second folio ; and by the Editors of 1778.
' lick] The conjecture of Seward, given in a note by Sympson, who cites from Shakespeare's Ant. and Cleop., act i. sc. 5, an equally violent metaphor, —
" Think on me. That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black ". Both the folios "like"; and so the modern editors. " 1 have no doubt,' says Mason, " but the true reading is 'lick', as suggested by Seward. The passage is nonsense as it stands." Weber, who calls Seward's conjecture "ludicrous ", explains " like " — "enjoy his Fove " : but it could signify only — have a liking to ; which has been said already in the preceding speech, — " affects her sweetness" : besides, " like " is proved to be wrong by the repeti- tion of the word in the next line — " like a lion ".
E E 2
420 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act i.
But the main sport on 't is, or rather wonder, The Governor of Ternata, her mortal enemy, He that has catch'd her brother-king, is struck too, And is arriv'd under safe conduct also, And hostages of worth deliverVl for him ; And he brought a letter from his prisoner, Whether eompelFd, or willingly deliver'd, From the poor king, or what else dare be in 't —
Christ. So it be honourable, any thing, 'tis all one ; For I dare think she ""ll do the best.
Pin. 'Tis certain He has admittance, and solicits hourly : Now, if he have the trick
Pedro. What trick ?
Pin. The true one, To take her too ; if he be but skilPd in bat-fowling. And lime his bush right
Christ. I '11 be hang'd when that hits ; For 'tis not a compell'd or forc'd affection That must take her : I guess her stout and virtuous. But where 's your uncle, sir, our valiant captain, The brave Ruy Dias, all this while ?
Pin. Ay, marry, He is amongst 'em too.
Pedro. A lover?
Pin. Nay, I kjiow not that ; but, sure, he stands in favour. Or would stand stifly ; he is no Portugal else.
Christ. The voice says, in good favour ; in the list too Of the privy wooers. How cunningly of late, (I have observed him,) and how privately He has stoln at all hoiu-s from us, and how readily He has feign'd a business to bid the fort farewell For five or six days, or a month together ! Sure, there is something
Pin. Yes, yes, there is a thing in 't, A thing would make the best on 's all dance after it, A dainty thing. Lord, how this uncle of mine Has read to me, and rated me for wenching.
scKNEi.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 421
And told me in what desperate case 'twould leave me, And how "'twould stew my bones !
Pedro. You card not for it.
Pin. r faith, not much ; I ventur'd on still easily, And took my chance ; danger is a soldier's honour. But that this man, this herb of grace, lluy Dias, This father of our faculties, should slip thus (For, sure, he is a- ferreting) ; that he That would drink nothing, to depress the spirit, But milk and water, eat nothing but thin air, To make his blood obedient ; that this '" youth, In spite of all his temperance, should tickle, And have a love-mange on him !
Christ. 'Tis in him, sir. But honourable courtship, and becoines his rank too.
Pin. In me 'twere abominable lechery, or would be ; For when our thoughts arc on't, and miss their level, 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 fail'd yet.
Christ. Our mad lieutenant still, merry Piniero ! Thus would he do, if the surgeon were searching of him.
Pedro. Especially, if a warm wench had shot him.
Pin. But hark, Christophero ; come hither, Pedro ; When saw you our brave countryman Arrausia, He that 's arriv'd here lately, and his gallants I A goodly fellow and a brave companion Methinks he is ; and no doubt truly valiant. For he that dares comes hither dares fight anywhere.
Christ. I saw him not of late. A sober gentleman I am sure he is ; and no doubt bravely sprung. And promises much nobleness.
Pin. I love him, And, by my troth, would fain be inward " with him : Pray, let 's go seek him.
"> Ihis] Both the folios "liis" ; and so the modern editors. Compare what precedes, — " this man, this lierb of grace," " this father of our faculties." " inivard] " i. c. intimate, familiar." Mason.
422 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act i.
Pedro. We '11 attend you, sir.
Pin. By that time, we shall hear the burst of the business".
\_Exeunt.
SCENE II. — The same. An apartment in the house of Quia k^ a .
Enter Quisara^ Quisana, Ruy Dias, and Panura. ' Qiiisara. Aunt, I much thank you for your courtesy, And the fair liberty you still allow me. Both of your house and service. Though I be A princess, and by that prerogative stand free From the poor malice of opinion, And no ways bound to render up my actions, Because no power above me can examine me, Yet, my dear brother being still a prisoner, And many wandering eyes upon my ways. Being left alone a sea-mark, it behoves me To use a little caution, and be circumspect.
Qidsana. You 're wise and noble, lady.
Quisara. Often, aunt, I resort hither, and privately, to see you. It may be, to converse with some I favour : I would not have it known as oft, nor construM ; It stands not with my care.
Quisana. You speak most fairly ; For even our pure devotions are examinM.
Quisara. So mad are men*'s minds now.
Mu^. Or rather, monstrous ; They are thick dreams bred in fogs, that know no fairness.
Quisana. Madam, the house is yours, I am yours, (pray, use me,) And at your service all I have lies prostrate ; My care shall ever be to yield you honour. And, when your fame falls here, 'tis my fault, lady. A poor and simple banquet I have provided. Which if you please to honour with your presence —
<• burst of the business] Heath's correction {MS. Notes), and obviously necessary. — Both the foUos "burst of businesse " ; and so the modern editors.
sCEN£ii.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 423
Qiiisara. I thank you, aunt ; I shall be with you instantly : A few words with this gentleman.
Quisana. I '11 leave you ; And, when you please retire, I '11 wait upon you.
\_Exit loith Panuua.
Quisara. Why, how now, captain ? what, afraid to speak to me ? A man of arms, and daunted with a lady ? Commanders have the power to parle with princes.
Ruy. Madam, the favours you have still showered on me, ( Which are so high above my means of merit, So infinite, that nought can value ""em But their own goodness, no eyes look up to 'em But those that are of equal light and lustre,) Strike me thus mute. You are my royal mistress, And all my services, that aim at honour, Take life from you, the saint of my 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 i' ! a king I would be, A mighty king that might command affection. And bring a youth upon me might bewitch you 'i. And you a sweet-souFd Christian.
Quisara. Now you talk, sir ! You Portugals, though you be rugged soldiers, Yet, when you list to flatter, you are plain courtiers. And could you wish me Christian, brave Ruy Dias ?
But/. At all the danger of my life, great lady. At all my hopes, at all
Quisara. Pray you, stay a little : To what end runs your wish ?
Ruj/. Oh, glorious lady. That I might — but I dare not speak.
p such a royal piece] " i.e. such a piece of royalty." Mason. Seward pro- posed to read " of such a royal price ".
'' And bring a youth upon me might bewitch you] Sympson proposed, most unnecessarily, to read, "A spring of youth upon me", &c. Nothing can be plainer than the meaning of the old text.
424 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act i.
Quisara. I dare, then ; That you might hope to marry me : nay, bhish not ; An honourable end needs no excuse. And would you love me, then ? JRu^. My soul not dearer.
Quisara. Do some brave thing that may entice me that way, Something of such a meritorious goodness. Of such an unmatch'd nobleness, that I may know You have a power beyond ours that preserves you. 'Tis not the person, nor the royal title. Nor wealth, nor glory, that I look upon : That inward man I love that 's lin'd with virtue, That well-deserving soul works out a favour. I have 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 ray freedom, And leave opinion fair.
Ru^. Command, dear lady ; And, let the danger be as deep as hell,
As direful to attempt
Quisara. You are too sudden : 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 You may find daily ; be sure you take a good one, A brave and worthy one, that may advance you : Forc'd smiles reward poor dangers. You are a soldier (I would not talk so else), and I love a soldier, And that that speaks him true and great, his valour : Yet, for all these, which are but women's follies. You may do what you please ; I shall still know you,
And though you wear no sword
liu^. Excellent lady. When I grow so cold, and disgrace my nation, That from their iiardy nurses suck adventures,
SCENE 111.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 425
'Twere fit I wore a tombstone. You have read to inc The story of your favour : if I mistake it, Or grow a truant ' in the study of it,
A great correction, lady
Quisara. Lefs to the banquet, • And have some merrier talk, and then to court. Where I give audience to my general suitors : Pray Heaven my woman's wit hold ! There, brave captain, You may perchance meet something that may startle you : 1 '11 say no more : come, be not sad ; I love you. \^Exeunt-
SCENE III.— 77ie same. A hall in the Palace. Enter PiNiERO, Armusia, Soza, Christophero, and Emanuel.
Pin. You are welcome, gentlemen, most worthy welcome ; And know, there 's nothing in our power may serve ye, But you may freely challenge.
Arm. Sir, we thank you, And rest your servants too.
Pin. Ye are worthy Portugals ; You shew the bravery of your minds and spirits. The nature of our country too, that brings forth Stirring unwearied souls to seek adventures, Minds never satisfied with search of honour : Where time is, and the sun gives light, brave countrymen. Our names are known ; new worlds disclose their riches, Their beauties and their prides, to our embraces. And we the first of nations find these wonders.
Arm. These noble thoughts, sir, have entic'd us forward, And minds unapt for ease, to see these miracles. In which we find report a poor relator : We are arrivM among the blessed islands. Where every wind that rises blows perfumes, And every breath of air is like an incense ; The treasure of the sun dwells here ; each tree, As if it envied ' the old Paradise, -
' tniant\ So the second folio. — The first folio " tenant ". ' envied^ i. e. vied with, emulated : as before, vol. v. 31.
126 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act i.
Strives to bring forth immortal fruit ; the spices
Renewing nature, though not deifying ;
And when that falls by time, scorning the earth,
The sullen earth, should taint or suck their beauties,
But as we dream'd '; for ever so preserve * us :
Nothing we see but breeds an admiration ;
The very rivers, as we float along,
Throw up their pearls, and curl their heads to court us ;
The bowels of the earth swell with the births
Of thousand unknown gems and thousand riches ;
Nothing that bears a life but brings a treasure :
The people they shew brave too, civil-manner'd,
Proportion'd like the masters of great minds ;
The women, which I wonder at
Pin. You speak well.
Arm. Of delicate aspects, fair, clearly beauteous. And, to that admiration, sweet and courteous.
Pin. And is not that a good thing I Brave Armusia, You never saw the court before ?
Arm. No, certain ; But that I see a wonder too, all excellent, The government exact.
Christ. You shall see anon That that will make you start indeed ; such beauties. Such riches, and such form !
Soza. We are fire already : The wealthy magazine of Nature, sure. Inhabits here.
Enter the King op Bakam, the Prince of Syana, and the Governor of Ternata.
Arm. These, sure, are all islanders.
Pin. Yes, and great princes too, and lusty lovers.
Aryn. They are goodly persons. What might he be, signior. That bears so proud a state ?
Pin. King* of Bakam, A fellow that farts terror.
' as we dream'd] i. e. as if we were dreaming (as if we lay asleep, not dead). ' preserve] i. e. embalm. ' Kiuff] Sympson silently printed « The Kinff ".
scKXK ni.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 427
Eman. He looks highly ; Sure, he was begot o' the top of a steeple.
Christ. It may well be ; For you shall hear him ring anon.
Pin. That is Syana, And a brave- temper'd fellow, and more valiant.
Soza, What rugged face is that ?
Pin. That ""s the great governor, The man surpris'd our friend ; I told you of him.
Arm. H'as dangerous eyes.
Pin. A perilous thief, and subtle.
Christ. And, to that subtilty, a heart of iron.
Pin. Yet the young lady makes it melt.
Arm. They start all, And thunder in the eyes.
K. of Bali. Away, ye poor ones ! Am I in competition with such bubbles I My virtue and my name rank'd with such trifles ?
P. ofSy. You speak loud.
K. of Bah. Young man, I will speak louder : Can any man but I deserve her favour, You petty princes i
Pin. He will put 'em all in 's pocket".
F. ofSy. Thou proud mad thing, be not so full of glory. So full of vanity !
K. of Bah. How ! I contemn thee, And that fort-keeping fellow !
Pin. How the dog looks, The bandog governor !
G. of Tern. Ha ! why— K. of Bah. Away, thing,
And keep your rank with those that fit your royalty ! — Call out the princess^' !
" lie will put 'em all in 's pockel"} Opposite this speech, the first folio has a stage-direction " Princes flie at one another" ; but it is evident that these dignified personages confine theii' violence to words, till just before the cnti*ance of Quisara, &c.
" Call out the princess] Sympson proposed to read " ' Cull out the princess ? ' i. e. Do you pick out the princess to disgrace her with the love of a person so every way unworthy of her as you are l "
428 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act i.
G. of Tern. Dost thou know me, bladder, Thou insolent imposthume I
K. of Bak. I despise thee.
G. of Tern. Art thou acquainted with my nature, baby I With my revenge for injuries ? dar'st tliou hold me So far behind thy file, I cannot reach thee ? What canst thou merit ?
A', of Bak. Merit ! I am above it ; I am equal with all honours, all atchievements, And what is great and worthy ; the best doer I keep at my command ; Fortune 's my servant : 'Tis in my power now to despise such wretches, To look upon ye slightly, and neglect ye ; And, but she deigns at some hours to remember ye. And people have bestow'd some titles on ye, I should forget your names.
P. of Sy. Mercy of me ! What a blown fool has self- affection Made of this fellow ! — Did not the queen your mother Long for bellows and bagpipes when she was great with you, She brought forth such a windy birth ?
G. of Tern. 'Tis ten to one She eat a drum, and was deliver'd of a 'larum ; Or else he was swaddled in an old sail when he was young".
P. ofSy. He swells, too, mainly with his meditations \ — Faith, talk a little handsomer, ride softly, That we may be able to hold way with you : we are princes ; But those are but poor things to you : talk wiser,— 'Twill well become your mightiness ; talk less, That men may think you can do more.
G. of Tern. Talk truth, That men may think you are honest, and believe you ; Or talk yourself asleep, for I am weary of you. K. of Bak. Why, I can talk and do
G. of Tern. That would do excellent.
* Or else he ivas swaddled in an old sail when he was 7/ounff] Seward tliought that this line should be given to the Prince of Syana.
" He sivells, too, mainly rcith his medilalions] Mason would make this line a portion of the lu-cceding speech, altering (as Seward had already proposed) " too, mainly " to '• so mainly ".
SCENE III.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 429
K. of Bah. And tell you, only I deserve the princess, And make good onhj /, if you dare, you, sir, Or you, Syana's prince !
Vin. Here 's a storm toward ; Methinks it sings already. To him, governor !
G. of Tern. Here lies my proof.
P. ofSy. And mine. \_Theij drmv their stvords.
G. of Tern. I '11 be short with you ; For these long arguments I was never good at.
Pin. How white the boaster looks !
A7'm. I see he lacks faith.
Enter Qdisara, Quisana, Ruy Dias, and Panuua.
Rut/. For shame, forbear, great princes ! rule your angers : You violate the freedom of this place, The state and royalty
G. of Tern. He 's well contented, It seems ; and so I have done.
Arm. Is this she, signior ?
Pin. This is the princess, sir.
Ann. She is sweet and goodly, An admirable form ; they have cause to justle.
Quisara. Ye wrong me and my court, ye froward^ princes ! Comes your love wrapt in violence to seek us ? Is 't fit, though you be great, my presence should be Stain'd and polluted with your bloody rages ? My privacies affrighted with your swords ? He that loves me, loves my command : be tempered. Or be no more what ye profess, my servants !
K. of Bah I
P. ofSy. > We are calm as peace.
G. of Tern. \
Arm. What command "= she carries ! And what a sparkling majesty flies from her !
Quisara. Is it ye love to do ? ye shall find danger,
y froward] Both the folios " fox'ward."
» What comtnand] Silently altered by Sympsou to " IVhat a command" perhaps rightly ; compare the next Hue.
430 THE ISLAND PRINCESS, [act i.
And danger that shall start your resolutions :
But not this way. 'Tis not contention
Who loves me to my face best, or who can flatter most,
Can carry me : he that deserves my favour,
And will enjoy what I bring, love and majesty,
Must win me with his worth, must travail for me,
Must put his hasty rage off, and put on
A well-confirmed, temperate, and true valour.
K. o/Bak. )
P. ofSy. > But shew the way.
G. of Tern. ;
Quisara. And will ; and then shew you A will to tread the way, I '11 say ye are worthy.
Pill. What task now will she turn 'em to? these hot youths I fear will find a cooling-card ^ ; I read in her eyes, Something that has some swinge must fly amongst 'em : By this hand, I love her a little now !
Quisai'a. 'Tis not unknown to you I had a royal brother, now miserable*. And prisoner to that man : if I were ambitious, Gap'd for that glory was ne'er born with me. There he should lie, his miseries upon him^"; If I were covetous, and my heart set On riches, and those base effects that follow On pleasures uncontrollM, or safe revenges, There he should die, his death would give me all these ; For then stood I up absolute to do all : Yet all these flattering shows of dignity. These golden dreams of greatness, cannot force [me] To forget nature and my fair affection : Therefore that man that would be known my lover Must be known his redeemer, and must bring him. Either alive or dead, to my embraces, (For even his bones I scorn shall feel such slavery,)
' a cooling-card] See note, vol. iv. 232.
a now miserable'] Synipson silently printed "tho' now miserable". ^ There he should lie, his viiseries upon Ann] So the second folio. — The firs folio has, " There they should lye as miseries tipon him "
SCENE III.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 131
Or seek another mistress. 'Twill be hard To do this, wondrous hard, a great adventure, Fit for a spirit of an equal greatness ; But, being done, the reward is worthy of it.
Christ. How they stand gaping all !
Quisara. Ruy Dias cold ? Not fly like fire into it I [Aside to Ruy Dias.] — May be, you
doubt me, He that shall do this is my husband, princes'" : By the bright Heavens, he is ! by whose justice I openly proclaim it : if I lie. Or seek to set you on with subtilty, Let that meet with me, and reward my falsehood ! — No stirring yet I no start into a bravery? [^Aside to Ruy Dias.
Riiy. IMadara, it may be ; but being a main danger, Your grace must give me leave to look about me, And take a little time : the cause will ask it ; Great acts require great counsels.
Quisara. Take your pleasure. — I fear the Portugal. [Aside.
K. of Bak. I 'll raise an army That shall bring back his island, fort and all, And fix it here.
G. of Tern. How long will this be doing I You should have begun in your grandfather's days.
P. of Si/. What may be, And what my power can promise, noblest lady — My will, I am sure, stands fair.
Quisara. Fair be your fortune ! Few promises are best, and fair performance.
G. of Tern. These cannot do ; their power and arts are weak ones.
•■ May be, you douhl me, He that shall do this is my husband, princcs'\ Both the folios "prince"; and so Sympson (Seward in a note proposing to read "princes ") ; so too the Editors of 1778, supposing that Ruy Dias is meant. Mason defended "princes", and Weber adopted it. — In all the modern editions this passage is wrongly pointed : the construction is — May be, princes, you doubt nie tchen I say that he that shall do this is my husband.
432 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. f act i.
'Tis in my will ; I have this king your brother, He is my prisoner ; I accept your proffer, And bless the fair occasion that atchiev'd him : I love you, and I honour you. But speak. Whether alive or dead he shall be render'd. And see how readily, how in an instant,
Quick as your wishes, lady
Quisara. No ; I scorn you, 'You and your courtesy ; I hate your love, sir ; And, ere I would so basely win his liberty, I would study to forget he was my brother. By force he was taken ; he, that shall enjoy me, Shall fetch him back by force, or never know me. Pin. As I live, a rare wench ! Arm. She has a noble spirit. G. nf Tern. By force !
Quisara. Yes, sir, by force, and make you glad, too. To let him go.
G. of Tern. How ! You may look nobler on me, And think me no such boy : by force he must not : For your love much may be.
Qvisara. Put up your passion. And pack you home ! I say, by force, and suddenly ; He Hes there till he rots else. Although I love him' Most tenderly and dearly as a brother, And out of these respects would joy to see him. Yet, to receive him as thy courtesy, With all the honour thou couldst add unto him. From his hands that most hates ^ him, I had rather (Though no condition were propounded for him) See him far sunk i' th' earth, and there forget him. Pin. Your hopes are gelt, good governor. Arm. A rare woman ! G. of Tern. Lady, I '11 pull this pride, I '11 quench this bravery, And turn your glorious scorn to tears and bowlings ; I will, proud princess ! This neglect of me
"> hatesi Both the folios « hate '
i
SCENE III.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 433
Shall make thy brother-king most miserable,
Shall turn him into curses 'gainst thy cruelty ;
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,
Darkness and lingering death, for his companions :
And let me see who dare attempt his rescue,
What desperate fool look toward it ! Farewell ;
And, when thou know'st him thus, lament thy follies !
Nay, I will make thee kneel to take my offer :
Once more farewell, and put thy trust in puppets ! [Exit.
Quisara. If none dare undertake it, I '11 live a mourner.
K. of Bak. You cannot want.
P. of St/. You must not.
Rut/. 'Tis most dangerous, And wise men would proceed with care and counsel : Yet some way would I knew ! — Walk with me, gentlemen.
[Exeunt all except Armusia, Soza, and Emanuel.
Arm. How do you like her spirit ?
Soza. 'Tis a clear one, Clod= with no dirty stuff; she is all pure honour.
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 Would this be to put forward on •', what a glory, And what an everlasting wealth to end it ! Methinks my soul is strangely rais'd.
Soza. To step into it, Just while they think, and, ere they have determined, To bring the king off !
Arm. Things have been done as dangerous.
Eman. And prosper'd best, when they were least consider'd.
^ where'\ i. e. whereas. ' cold'\ Both the folios " colds."
K Clod} or c/ofWef/,— the same as clot or clotted: see Richardson's Diet, in
V. V. So the first folio The second folio " Clog'd " ; and so the modern editors.
h on] So the second folio.— The fii-st folio « one " ; and so Sympson. VOL. Vll. F I'
434 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act ii.
Arm. Bless me, my hopes ! and you, my friends, assist me : None but our companions
Soza. You deal wisely ; A nd, if we shrink, the name of slaves die with us !
Eman. Stay not for second thoughts.
Arm. I am determin'd; And, though I lose, it shall be sung I was valiant, And my brave offer shall be turn'd to story Worthy the princess'' tongue. A boat, — that's all That 's unprovided, — and habits like to merchants : The rest we '11 counsel as we go.
Soza. Away, then ! Fortune looks fair on those make haste to win her. \_Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I. — Ternata. A prison?^ attached to the Castle oj the Governor : a door opening to a dungeon beneath, in the hack-ground.
Enter Keeper and tico or three Moors.
Keeper. I 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 would not lay my dog (for, sure, 'twould kill him), AVhere neither light or comfort can come near him, Nor air nor earth that 's wholesome : it grieves me To see a mighty king, with all his glory, Sunk o"" the sudden to the bottom of a dungeon. Whither should we descend, that are poor rascals. If we had our deserts ?
First Moor. 'Tis a strange wonder : Load him with irons, oppress him with contempts, (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 miseries,
B Ternata. A prison, &c."l Weber, misuiidei'standing a subsequent stage- direction of the folios (see note, next page), gave here, " Ternata. The Castle of the Governor. A Dungeon, with a Gallery in the Back-ground".
SCENE I.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 435
And bears 'em with such strength as if his nature Had been nurs'd up and fostei-'d with calamities.
Sec. Moor. He gives no ill words, curses, nor repines not, Blames nothing, hopes in nothing, we can hear of ; And, in the midst of all these frights, fears nothing.
Keeper. 1 '11 be sworn He fears not ; for even when I shake for him '* (As many times my pity will compel me), When other souls, that bear not half his burden. Shrink in their powers, and burst with their oppressions, Then will he sing, woo his afflictions, And court "era in sad airs, as if he would wed 'em.
First Moor. That's more than we have heard yet; we are only Appointed for his guard, but not so near him : If we could hear that wonder
Keeper. Many times I fear the governor should come to know it ; For his voice so affects me, so delights me, That, when I find his hour, I have music ready. And it stirs me infinitely. Be but still and private. And you may chance to hear.
Sec. Moor. We will not stir, sir. This is a sudden change ; but who dares blame it ?
Keeper. Now hark and melt ; for I am sure I shall : Stand silent.
^Keeper opens the door of the dungeon. The King of Tidore, louden loith chains \ raises himself from it, his head and arms only visible.^
What stubborn J weight of chains !
'> I'll be sworn He fears not ; for even when I shake for him'\ So these words are arranged in both the foUos ; but perhaps the author intended them to form only a single line.
' The King of Tidore, loaden with chains, ^c] The first folio, " Kinff appeares loden tcith chaines, his head, arms only above ; " and so the second folio, except that it has « his head, and armes ". Weber (who, with the other modern editors, retained the old stage-direction) put a comma between "only" and "above," evidently supposing that the latter word meant — in a gallery : see note, preceding page.
J What stubborn'] Sympson silently printed " What a stubborn " ; and so perhaps the author wrote.
£ V 1
f
n
lo lot ibturb
-•M\-'« ura »*9B next
>1
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
437
^
;. of Tern. You carry it handsoimly: buttll inc, l\atlence, not you curse the bravo and royal lady. I- gracious sister ? do not you damn he jtity, m twenty times a-day, and damn it soously ' not you swear aloud t*K), cry and kick iio very soul sweat in thee with the agon; rher conteni[>t of nic ? couldst not thou it Ikt <>r being so injurious to thy fortune. liy fair and happy fortune i couldst not ton wish her \ bastard or a whore, Fame mi^'ht proclan h<r. ilack ugly Fame, or that thou had.st had o sister i :^pitting the general name out, and the naire. Blaspheming Heaven for making such a inchief, For giving power to pridf, and will to wonn ?
K. ofTi. No, tyrant, no ; I bless and I^^e licr for it : And, though her scorn of thee had laid ujfor mo As many plagues as the corrupted air brois. As many mischiefs as the hours have min;es. As many forms of death as doubt can figu? : Yet 1 should love her mf>ru still, and morhonour her: All thou canst lay upon me cannot bend k ; No, not the stroke of death,— that I despe too ; For, if ft-ar could possess me. thou hadst on me : As little from this hour I prizf thy flatters, And. less than those, thy prayers, thouglihou wouldst kneel
to me : And if she be not mistress of this nature, She is none of mine, no kin, and I contem her. G. of Tern. Are you so vahant, sir ''. K. of Ti. Yes, and so fortunate ; For he, that holds his "' constancy, st: Hadst thou preservM me as a noble And, as at first, made my restra; But only as the shadow of capti I had still spoke thee noble, still A valiant, great, and worthy And still preferr'd thy fair lov»
" Ai*] So the second folio.— Tlie first folio my
■:,' ii
\
436 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act ii.
First Moor. Yet he looks temperately.
Sec. Moor. His eyes not sunk, and his complexion firm still, No wildness, no distemper'd touch upon him : How constantly he smiles, and how undaunted ! With what a majesty he heaves his head up ! \iMusic.
Keeper. Now mark ; I know he will sing : do not disturb
him''. \^Gives him his alloioance.
Your allowance from the governor : would it were more, sir, Of in my power to make it handsomer !
K. ofTi. Do not transgress thy charge; I take his bounty: — And, Fortune, whilst I bear a mind contented, Not leavenM with the glory I am fain from, Nor hang upon vain hopes that may corrupt me, Thou art my slave, and I appear above thee.
Enter the Governor of Ternata.
Keeper. The governor himself '.
G. of Tern. What, at your banquet ? And in such state, and with such change of service ?
K. of Ti. Nature 's no glutton, sir ; a little serves her.
G. oj Tern. This diet 's wholesome, then ?
K. ofTi. I beg no better.
G. of Tern. A calm contented mind ! — Give him less next ; These full meals will oppress his health ; his grace Is of a tender and pure constitution ; And such repletions
K. of Ti. Mock, mock ; it moves not me, sir ; Thy mirths, as do thy mischiefs, fly behind me.
•t / know he will sing: do not disturb him'\ Here, doubtless, a song was sung by the captive king, though neither of the folios has even a stage-direction con- cerning it.
' Nor hang upon vain hopes that may corrupt me, Thou art my slave, and I appear above thee. Enter the Governor of Ternata. Keeper. The governor himself] So the Editors of 1778, at the suggestion of J. N[ichols] ; and, no doubt, rightly.— Both the folios thus ;
" Nor hang upon vaine hopes, that may corrupt me. Enter Governor. Gov, Thou art my slave, and I appeare above thee. Kee. The Governor himsclfe." and so Sympson, whose conjectures on the passage, as well as those of Seward, it would be useless to detail.
SCENE I.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 437
G. of Tern. You carry it handsomely: but tell me, Patience, Do not you curse the brave and royal lady, Your gracious sister I do not you damn her pity, Damn twenty times a-day, and damn it seriously ? Do not you swear aloud too, cry and kick I The very soul sweat in thee with the agony Of her contempt of me 1 couldst not thou eat her For being so injurious to thy fortune, Thy fair and happy fortune \ couldst not thou wish her A bastard or a whore. Fame might proclaim her. Black ugly Fame, or that thou hadst had no sister ? Spitting the general name out, and the nature, Blaspheming Heaven for making such a mischief, For giving power to pride, and will to woman ?
K. of Ti. No, tyrant, no ; I bless and love her for it : And, though her scorn of thee had laid up for me As many plagues as the corrupted air breeds, As many mischiefs as the hours have minutes. As many forms of death as doubt can figure ; Yet I should love her more still, and more honour 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 from this hour I prize thy flatteries, And, less than those, thy prayers, though thou wouldst kneel
to me : And if she be not mistress of this nature. She is none of mine, no kin, and I contemn her.
G. of Tern. Are you so valiant, sir ?
K. of Ti. Yes, and so fortunate ; For he, that holds his '" constancy, still conquers. Hadst thou preserved me as a noble enemy, And, as at first, made my restraint seem to me But only as the shadow of captivity, I had still spoke thee noble, still dcclar'd thee A valiant, great, and worthy man, still lov'd thee. And still prcferr'd thy fair love to my sister :
■" A(«] So the second folio. — Tlio first folio " ni)- " ; and so Weber.
438 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act ii.
But to compel this from me with a misery, A most inhuman and unhandsome slavery-
G, of Tern. You will relent, for all this talk, I fear not. And put your wits a-work again.
K. of Ti. You are cozen'd : Or, if I were so weak to be wrought to it, So fearful to give way to so much poverty, How I should curse her heart, if she consented !
G. of Tern. You shall write, and entreat, or
- K. ofTi. Do thy utmost,
And, e'en in all thy tortures, I '11 laugh at thee : I Ml think thee no more valiant, but a villain ; Nothing thou hast done brave, but, like a thief, Atchiev'd by craft, and kept by cruelty ; Nothing thou canst deserve, — thou art unhonest ; Nor no way live to build a name, — thou art barbarous.
G. of Tern. Down with him low enough ! there let him murmur ; And see his diet be so light and little. He grow not thus high-hearted on 't. — I will cool you. And make you cry for mercy, and be ready To work my ends, and willingly : and your sister taken down^ Your scornful cruel sister, shall repent too, And sue to me for grace. — Give him no liberty, But let his bands be doubled, his ease lessen'd, Nothing his heart desires, but vex and torture him ; Let him not sleep ; nothing that 's dear to nature Let him enjoy : yet take heed that he die not ; Keep him as near death, and as willing to embrace it, But see he arrive not at it. I will humble him, And her stout heart that stands on such defiance : And let mo see her champions that dare venture. Her high and mighty wooers ! Keep your guards close, And, as you love your lives, be diligent. And what I charge observe !
Keeper and Moors. We shall be dutiful.
G. of Tern. I '11 pull your courage, king, and all your bravery. [Exit. The Kincj of Tidore disappears.
First Moor. Most certain he is rcsolv'd, nothing can stir him ;
I
SCENE II.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS, 439
For, if he had but any part about him
Gave way to fear or hope, he durst not talk thus,
And do thus stoutly too : as willingly.
And quietly he sunk down to his sorrows,
As some men to their sleeps.
Keeper. Yes, and sleeps with 'em, (So little he regards them, there 's the wonder,) And often soundly sleeps. Would I durst pity him, Or would it were in my will ! but we are servants, And tied unto command.
Sec. Moor. I wish him better ; But much I fear li'as found his tomb already. We must observe our guards.
First Moor. He cannot last long ; And when he is dead he is free.
Keeper. That 's the most cruelty, That we must keep him living.
Sec. Moor. That 's as he please ; For that man that resolves needs no physician. ^Exeunt.
SCENE II. — The same. A street in the chief town.
Enter Armusia, Soza, Emanuel, disguised as Merchants, armed underneath^\ and a Soldier °.
Arm. Our prosperous passage was an omen to us, A lucky and a p fair omen.
Eman. and Soza. We believe it.
Arm. The sea and wind strove who should most befriend us. And as they favourM our design, and lov'd us, So led us forth. AVhere lies the boat that brought US'! ?
" armed underneath'] So both the folios, — a direction for the actors rather than the readers.
° a Soldier] The entrance of this person (whom Aiinusia mentions at p. 441, " Here 's one has found the way, and dares direct us ") is not marked in tlie folios. I have designated him as "a Soldier" on account of what takes place in the fifth scene of this act : Weber tenns him " a Guide."
p a] Silently omitted by S^Tnpson and Weber.
' So led us forth. IVhere lies the boat thai brought us?] Stands thus in both the folios ;
'* So lead ma- forth — JVhere lies the boat that brought us ? " and so the modern editora.
440 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. (actu.
Soza. Safe lodg'd within the reeds, close by the castle, That no eye can suspect, nor thought come near it. Eman. But where have you been, brave sir ? Arm. I have broke the ice, boys ; I have begun the game ; fair Fortune guide it ! Suspectless have I travell'd all the town through, And in this mei'chant's shape won much acquaintance. Surveyed each strength and place that may befriend us, View'd all his magazines, got perfect knowledge Of where the prison is, and what power guards it. Soza. These will be strong attempts. Arm. Courage is strong : What we began with policy, my dear friends, Let 's end with manly force : there 's no retiring, Unless it be with shame.
Eman. Shame his that hopes it ! Arm. Better a few, and clearer fame will follow us. However, lose or win, and speak our memories. Than if we led out'i armies : things done thus, And of this noble weight, will style us worthies.
Soza. Direct, and we have done ; bring us to execute,
And, if we flinch, or fail
Arm. I am sure ye dare not. Then further know, and let no ear be near us
That may be false
Eman. Speak boldly on ; we are honest, Our lives and fortunes yours.
Arm. Hard by the place, then. Where all his treasure lies, his arms, his women, Close by the prison too where he keeps the king, I have hirM a lodging, as a trading merchant ; A cellar to that too, to stow my wares in, The very wall of which joins to his storehouse. Soza. What of all this ? Ai'm. Ye are dull, if ye apprehend not. Into that cellar, elected friends, I have conveyed. And unsuspected too, that that will do it,
1 out'\ The correction of the Editors of 1778. — Both tlie folios "our"; aud so Sympson (Seward proposing to read " o'er").
scENK 11.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 441
That that will make all shake, and smoke too. Eman. Ha !
Jrm. My thoughts have not been idle, nor my practice'': The fire I brought here with me shall do something, Shall burst into material flames, and bright ones, That all the island shall stand wondering 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 hush'd% and locked close, No man suspecting what^ I am but merchant. An hour hence, my brave friends, look for the fury, The fire to light us to our honourM purpose ; For by that time 'twill take.
Soza. What arc our duties ?
Arm. When all are full of fear and" fright, the governor Out of his wits to see the flames so imperious. Ready to turn to ashes all he worships, And all the people there to stop these ruins, No man regarding any private office, Then fly we to the prison suddenly : Here ""s one has found the way, and dares direct us.
Eman. Then to our swords and good hearts ! I long for it.
Arm. Certain we shall not find much opposition ; But what is, must be forcVl.
Soza. 'Tis bravely cast% sir ; And surely too, I hope.
Arm. If the fire fail not, And powder hold his nature. Some must presently. 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.
Eman. Bless us, dear Fortune !
Arm. Let us be worthy of it in our courage, And Fortune must befriend us. Come, all sever ;
' practice^ See note, p. 28.
' all hush'd] IJoth the folios " nil, all hun/il " (a manifest mistake) ; and so the Editors of 1 778 and Weber. • ivhat] Qy. « that " ?
" ami] Weber printed " or.'' ' cast] Sec note, p. 89.
442 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act ii.
But keep still within sight : when the flame rises, Let 's meet, and either do or die !
Soza. So be it ! [Exeunt severally/.
SCENE Ul.— T/ie same. Another street.
Enter the Governor of Ternata and Captain.
G. of Tern. No, captain, for those troops, we need 'em not ; The town is strong enough to stand their furies. I would see 'era come, and offer to do something : They are high in words.
Capt. 'Tis safer, sir, than doing,
G. of Tern. Dost think they dare attempt ?
Capt. May be, by treaty ; But, sure, by force they will not prove so forward,
G, of Tern. No, faith, I warrant thee ; they know me well enough, And know they have no child in hand to play with : They know my nature too ; I have bit some of 'em. And to the bones ; they have reason to remember me. It makes me laugh to think how glorious ' The fools are in their promises, and how pregnant Their wits and powers are to bring things to pass. Am I not grown lean with loss of sleep, and care To prevent these threatenings, captain ?
Capt. You look well, sir : Upon my conscience, you are not like to sicken Upon any such conceit,
G. of Tern. I hope I shall not. Well, would I had this wench ! for I must have her, She must be mine : and there 's another charge, captain ; — What betwixt love and brawling, I get" nothing; All goes in maintenance —
[The train takes ; an explosion tvithin. Hark ! what was that, That noise there ? it went with a violence.
' glorious'] i. e. vain-glorious, boastful.
" get} Sympson's correction.— Both the folios " got".
SCENE III.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 443
Capt. Some old wall belike, sir, That had no neighbour-help to hold it up, Is fain suddenly.
G. of Teiii. I must discard these rascals, That are not able to maintain their buildings ; They blur the beauty of the town.
[ JVithi7i.] Fire, fire !
G. of Tern. 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 ! Upon my life, some sudden fire !
\^Exit Captain. Bell ringa within. The bell too ? I hear the noise more clear.
Enter Citizen.
at. Fire, fire !
G. of Te)'n. Where I where I
Cit. Suddenly taken in a merchant's house, sir : Fearful -and high it blazes. — Help, good people ! [^Exit.
G. of Tern. Pox o' their paper-houses ! how they smother ! They light like candles : how the roar still rises !
Re-enter Captain.
Capt. Your magazine 's a-fire, sir ; help, help suddenly ! The castle too is in danger, in much danger : All will be lost : get the people presently, And all that are your guard, and all help, all hands, sir ; Your wealth, your strength, is burnt else, the town perishVl : The castle now begins to flame.
G. of Tern. My soul shakes !
Capt. A merchant's house next joining — shame light on him ! That ever such a neighbour, such a villain
G. of Tern. Raise all the garrison, and bring 'cm up, And beat the people forward ! — Oh, I have lost all In one house, all my hopes !
Enter other Citizens.
Good worthy citizens, Follow me all, and all your powers give to me !
444 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act ii.
I will reward you all. — Oh, cursed fortune !
The flames more violent arise still. — Help, help, citizens; ! Freedom and wealth to him that helps ! follow, oh, follow ! Fhng wine, or any thing ; I '11 see it recompens'd : Buckets, more buckets ! Fire, fire, fire ! [Exeunt.
Enter Armusia, Soza, Emanuel, disguised as before, and Soldier.
Arm. Let it flame on ! a comely light it gives up To our discovery. [Cries withhi.
Soza. Hark, What a merry cry these hounds make ! Forward fairly ! We are not seen in the mist, we are not noted : Away, away ! Now, if we lose our fortune [Exeunt.
SCENE lY.—The same. Another street.
Enter Captain and Citizens.
Cajyt. Up, soldiers, up, and deal like men !
Cit. More water, More water ! all is consum'd else.
Cajit. All is gone^^'. Unless you undertake it straight ; your wealth too, That must preserve and pay your labour bravely. Up, up, away ! [Exeunt.
' The flumes more violent arise still. — Help, help, citizens'] Botli the folios have ;
" The flame 's more violent : arise still, help, helpe, citizens ; " and so Sympson, though in a note he proposes what is manifestly the true reading. The Editors of 1778 printed,
" The flame 's more violent ! — Arise ! — Still help, help, citizens " / and Weber gave,
" The flame 's more violent ! — Arise still ! help, help, citizens .' " Such absurdity is intolerable.
" All is gone, &c.] Sympson regulated the passage thus : " All 's gone, unless you undertake it straight ; Your wealth too, that must preserve, and pay your labour Bravely. Up, up, away ! " and proposed to read,
•' Vour wealth too, that preserv'd must pay your labours." Mason says that no amendment is necessary, " preserve " meaning— support. Weber gave another arrangement. I have tried a third : but none is satisfac- tory. The passage seems to be corrupted.
SCENE V.J THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 445
SCENE V. — The same. The prison as before.
Enter Armusia, Soza, Emanuel, disguised as before, and Soldier, breaking open a door.
Arm. So, thou art open. — Keep the way clear behind still. Now for the place.
Sold. 'Tis here, sir.
Arm. Sure, this is it : Force ope the door. [ The King of Tidore discovered.
A miserable creature ! Yet, by his manly face
K. of Ti. Why stare ye on me l You cannot put on faces to affi'ight me ; In death I am a king still, and contemn ye. Where is that governor ? methinks his manhood Should be well pleased to see my tragedy, And come to bathe his stern eyes in ray sorrows : I dare him to the fight ; bring his scorns with him, And all his rugged threats. Here 's a throat, soldiers : Come, see who can strike deepest !
Eman. Break the chain there.
K. of Ti. What does this mean I
Arm. Come, talk of no more governors ; He has other business, sir. Put your legs forward. And gather up your courage, like a man ; We '11 carry off your head else. We are friends, And come to give your sorrows ease.
Soza. On bravely ! Delays may lose again.
Enter Guard.
Arm. The guard.
Soza. Upon 'em !
Arm. Make speedy and sure work. \^Fight. The Guard j/fy.
Eman. They fly.
Arm. Up with him. And to the boat ! — Stand fast. — Now be speedy ! When this heat 's past, we 'U sing our history :
446 THE ISLAND PRINCESS, [act ii.
Away, like thoughte ! sudden as desires, friends !
Now, sacred Chance, be ours !
Soza. Pray when we have done, sir. [^Exeunt.
SCENE Yl.— The same. A street.
Enter three or four Citizens severally.
First Cit. What, is the fire allay'd ?
Sec. Cit. 'Tis out, 'tis out. Or past the worst. I never did so stoutly, I '11 assure you, neighbours, since I was a man : I have been burnt at both ends like a squib ; I livM two hours in the fire : 'twas a hideous matter ; But when men of understanding come about it, Men that judge of things — My wife gave me over, And took her leave a hundred times ; I bore up still, And tossM the buckets, boys.
Third Cit. We are all mere martins'^.
First Cit. I heard a voice at latter end o' th' hurry, — Or else I dreamt I heard it, — that said " treason."
Sec. Cit. 'Tis like enough it might cry "murder" too ; For there was many without a joint : but what 's that to us? Let 's home and fright our wives ; for we look like devils.
Third Cit. Here come some of 'em to fright us.
Enter three Citizens'-Wives.
First Cit. Wife. Mine 's alive, neighbour. — Oh, sweet honey husband !
First Cit. Thou liest ; I stink ^ abominably : an thou hadst Been in my place, thou wouldst have stunk at both ends. Get me some drink, give me whole tuns of drink. Whole cisterns ; for I have four dozen of fine firebrands In my belly ; I have more smoke in my mouth than would bloto A hundred herrings.
Sec. Cit. Wife. Art thou come safe again ?
" We are all mere martins'] " The only resemblance between them and martins must have been in the colour." Mason. Does not the Citizen mean that they had been busy about the tops of the houses ?
y stink] Sympson's correction. — The folios "thinke", and « think ",— prefix- ing to this speech, by mistake, "2 [Cit.] "
I
I
SCENE VI.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 447
Third Cit. Wife. I pivay you^ what became of my man? is he well'^ I
Sec. Cit. At heart's ease in a well; is very well, neighbour ; We left him drinking of '> a new dozen of buckets : Thy husband 's happy, he was th[o]rough roasted, And now he 's basting of himself at all points ; The clerk and he are cooling their pericraniums. — Body o' me, neighbours, there 's fire in my cod-piece !
Sec. Cit. Wt/e^. Bless my husband !
Sec. Cit. Blow it out, wife ! blow, blow ! the gable end o' the store-house !
Cit. Wives. Some water, water, water !
Third Cit. Peace ; 'tis but a sparkle ; Raise not the town again ; "'twill be a great hinderance. I 'm glad 'tis out ; an 't had ta''en in my hay-loft — What frights are these? marry, Heaven bless thy modicum*^!
Third Cit. Wife. But is 'a drown 'd outright ^ ? pray, put me out Of fear, neighbour.
Sec. Cit. Thou wouldst have it so ; But, after a hundred fires more, he '11 live To see thee burnt for brewing musty liquor.
First Cit. Come, let 's go, neighbour; For I would very fain turn down this liquor.
Sec. Cit. Come, come ; I fry like a burnt marry-bone ^ —
' you] Silently omitted by Weber.
" isheivell?] Sympson's correction. — Both the folios "is he in a well?^' (the eye of the original compositor having glanced at the next line).
^ of] Mason says "we should surely read <off'." But compare the next line but one — "he's basting 0/ himself."
" Sec. Cit. Wife] Both the folios " 1. Wo." ; and so the modern editors. '^ What frights are these ^ marry. Heaven, bless thy modicum!] Seward proposed giving this line to the First Cit. Wife ; and, as Mason thinks, rightly. ■^ But is 'a drorvn'd outright, S^c] The Sec. Cit. having now got over his alarm, the Third Cit. Wife proceeds to question him farther concerning her husband. ' First Cit. Come, let '« go, neighbour ;
For I would very fain turn down this liquor. Sec. Cit. Come, come; I fry like a burnt marry-bone, &c.] Both the folios thus ;
" 1 . Come, lets go neighbor.
2. For I would very faine tume downe this liquor ; Come, come, I fry like a burnt man-y-bono ", &c.
448 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act ii.
Women, get 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 I"
Cit. Wives. Away ! let 's nourish the poor wretches.
Sec. Cit. We '11 rally up the rest of the burnt regiment.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII. — The same. Before the Castle of the Governor.
Enter the Governor of Ternata, Captain, Soldiers, and Guard.
G. of Tern. The fire's quench'd, captain, but the mischief hangs still : The king 's redeem'd, and gone too ; a trick, a damn'd one ! Oh, I am overtaken poorly, tamely !
Capt. Where were the guard that waited upon the prison I
First Sold. Most of 'em slain ; yet some scap'd, sir, and they deliver. They saw a little boat ready to receive him And those redeemed him, making such haste and fighting. Fighting beyond the force of men !
G. of Tern. I am lost, captain. And all the world will laugh at this, and scorn me ; Count me a heavy sleepy fool, a coward, A coward past recovery, a confirm'd coward, One without carriage or common sense.
First 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 fright of fire, none knows to execute.
G. of Tern. Oh, I could tear my limbs, and knock my boy's brains 'Gainst every post I meet ! fool'd with a fire !
Capt. It was a crafty trick.
G. of Tern. No, I was lazy. Confident, sluggish lazy : had I but met 'em. And chang'd a dozen blows, I had forgiven 'em. By both these hands held up, and by that brightness
and so the modern editors,— even Weber, tliougli Mason liad pointed ont the proper distribution of these speeches.
SCENE viri.J THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 449
That gilds the world with light, by all our worships ^ The hidden ebbs and flows of the blue ocean, I will not rest ; no mirth shall dwell upon me, Wine touch my mouth, nor any thing refresh me, Till I be wholly quit of this dishonour ! Make ready my barattoes § instantly,
And what I shall intend
Capt. We are your servants. [^Exeunt.
SCENE YlU.— Tidore. Before the Palace.
Enter Quisara and Ruy Dias.
Quisara. Never tell me : you never card to win me ; Never, for my sake, to attempt a deed Might draw me to a thought you sought my favour : If not for love of me, for love of arms, sir. For that cause you profess, for love of honour. Of which you style yourself the mighty master, You might have stept out nobly, and made an offer. As if you had intended something excellent ; Put on a forward face
Ruy. Dear lady, hold me
Quisara. I hold you as I find you, a faint servant.
Muy. By [Heaven's] I dare do
Quisara. In a lady's chamber, I dare believe you ; there''s no mortal danger : Give me the man that dares do, to deserve that ! I thought you Portugals had been rare wonders, Men of those haughty courages and credits That all things were confined within your promises ; The lords of Fate and Fortune I believ'd ye : But well I see I am deceiv'd, Ruy Dias, And blame, too late, my much belief.
Ruy. I am asham'd, lady, I was so dull, so stupid to your offer :
f by all our worships] " i. e. by all the objects of our woi-ship." Mason. « barattoes] See note, p. 418. '' [Heaven] A break here in both the folios. VOL. VII. G «
450 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [actii.
Now you have once more schooFd me, I am riglit ; And something shall be thought on suddenly, And put in act as soon, some preparation
Quisara. And give it out ?
Ruy. Yes, lady, and so great too, In which the noise ' of all my countrymen
Quisara. Those will do well, for they are all approv'd ones ; And, though he be restorM alive .'
Ruy. I have you.
Quisara. For then we are both servants.
Iliiy. I conceive you : Good madam, give me leave to turn my fancies.
Quisara. Do, and make all things fit, and then I '11 visit you. \^Exit.
Ruy. Myself, my ^ cousin, and the garrison, The neighbours of the out-isles of our nation, Sy ana's strength, for I can humour him, And proud Bakamus ', I shall deceive his glory —
\_A shout within. What ringing sound of joy is this ? whence comes it ? May be, the princes are in sport.
Enter Piniero and Christophero. Pin. Where are you ? Ruy. Now, Piniero, what's the haste you seek me ?
• noise'\ " Instead of ' noise ' Mr. Seward supposes ' choice ', or, with equal probability, as I imagine, 'voice', i.e. approbation, consent, &c. was originally wrote in our poets' manuscript." Sympson. " I am inclined, with Seward, to read ' choice ' ." Mason. "Noise was often used for rumour, report; and might, thei'efore, also stand for fame or glory ; which supports the propriety of the old text." Weber,
J And, though he he reslor'd alive'] " Sewai'd wishes to read, ' And though he leriU restor'd alive ' ; which would totally pervert Quisara's meaning, who intends to insinuate, that though the king should be restored alive, that would not prevent her marrying Ruy Dias ; for in that case, as she tells him in her next speech, they would both be servants : and Ruy Dias says, that he then should have her, though not the kingdom." Mason. But, surely, " / have you" means — I understand you. Compare p. 508, 1. 6.
'' my] Both the folios " the ".
' Bakamus] Silently altered by Sympson to " Bakam." — " Why is the King of Bakam called here ' Bakamus ' ? I should suspect there is some eiTor in the passage." Mason. Our early writers often designated monarchs by names formed from those of the countries which they governed.
SCENE viii] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 451
Piti. Do you know this sign, sir ?
Ru?/. Ha !
Phi. Do you know this emblem ? Your nose is bor'd.
Rill/. Bor'd ! what is that ?
Pin. You 're topt, sir : The king's come home again, the king.
Rut/. The devil !
Pin. Nay, sure, he came a' God's name home ; he 's returned, sir.
Christ. And all this joy you hear
Ru7/. Who durst attempt him ? The princes are all here.
Christ. They are worthy princes, They are special princes all ! they love by ounces '". 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 ?
Pi}i. How stands your claim ? That ever man should be fool'd so, When he should do and prosper ! stand protesting, Kissing the hand, and farting for a favour. When he should be about his business sweating ! She bid you go, and pick'd you out a purpose °, To make yourself a fortune by, a lady, A lady, and a lusty one, a lovely, That now you may go look ; she 'pointed you. Knowing you were a man of worth and merit, And bid you fly : you have made a fair flight on 't ; You have caught a goose.
Rn?/. How dare you thus molest me ? It cannot be. [A shout ivithin.
Christ. Hark how the general joy rings ! Pi7i. Have you your hearing left i is not that drunk too ? For, if you had been sober, you had been wise, sure.
■" princes all ! they love by ounces] Weber's punctuation In both the folios
these words are pointed thus ; "princes, all they love by ounces." » justicel " i. e. right, claim, or pretence." Sympson. " a purpose] Sympson and the Editors of 1778 printed " o' purpose ".
G G 2
452 THE ISLAND PRINCESS, [act ii.
Ruy. Done ! who dares do ?
Fin. It seems an honest fellow, That has ended his market before you be up.
Christ. The shame on 't, he 's a stranger too.
Pin. 'Tis no shame ; He took her at her word, and tied the bargain. Dealt like a man indeed, stood not demurring, But clapt close to the cause, as he will do to the lady : He is a fellow of that speed and handsomeness. He will get her with child too, ere you shall come to know
him. Is it not brave, 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 forth, At the first sight too
Ruy. I am undone !
Pin. Like an oyster : — She neither taking view, nor value of him, Unto such deeds as these ? — Pox o' these, These wise delayings ! they make men cowards. You are undone, as a man would undo an egg., A hundred shames about you.
Re-enter Quisara, with Pantjra, and train.
Quisara. Can it be possible ? A stranger that I have not known, not seen yet, A man I never grac'd ? — Oh, captain, captain. What shall I do ? I am betray'd by fortune : It cannot be, it must not be.
Pin. It is, lady ; And, by my faith, a handsome gentleman : 'Tis his poor scholar's prize P,
Quisara. Must I be given Unto a man I never saw, ne'er spoke with, I know not of what nation ?
Pin. He 's a Portugal,
*■ scholar's prizf.'\ See note, vol vi, 529,
-SCENE VIII.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 453
And of as good a pitch — He will be given to you, lady, For he 's given much to handsome flesh.
Quisa7'a. Oh, Ruy Dias, This was your sloth, your sloth, your sloth, Ruy Dias !
Piyi. Your love-sloth, uncle : do you find it now i You should have done at first, and faithfully. And then the t'other p had lied 'i ready for you. —
[A shout within. Madam, the general joy comes.
Quisara. We must meet it ; But with what comfort?
Enter Citizens carrying houghs. Boys singing after them ; then the
King of Tidore, Armusia, Soza, Emanuel ; the King of Bakam,
the Prince of Syana, and train folloicing . Oh, my dear brother, what a joy runs through me, [^Kneels. To see you safe again, yourself, and mighty ! What a blest day is this !
K. of Ti. \i-aising herl^ Rise up, fair sister : I am not welcome till you have embraced me.
Ruy. A general gladness, sir, flies through the city, And mirth possesses all to see your grace arriv'd '', Thus happily arrived again, and fairly. 'Twas a brave venture, whosoe'er put 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 forcM the governor, In spite of all his threats
K. of Ti. I thank you, gentleman ^
Ru7j. And all his subtilties, to set you free, With all his heart and will too.
K. of Ti. I know you love me.
Pin, This had been good, with something done before it. Something to set it off, to beautify it ^ :
^ the Collier'] As frequently before : see note, vol. ii. 45. 1 lied] Silently altered by Sympson to " laid " ; and so bis successors ! ' arrived] Both tbe folios " arrive ".
• gentleman] Sympson silently printed " gentlemen " ; and so his successors. ' Something to set it off, to leautifi) it] Both the folios have, " Something set off to brautijie it." I give the reading which was proposed by Seward in a nolo, and adopted by the
454 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act ii.
Now it sounds empty, like a barber's bason ;
Pox, there 's no metal in 't, no noble marrow ! \_Aside.
K. ofBak. I have an army, sir, (but that the governor, The foolish fellow, was a little provident, And wise in letting slip no time ; 'became him too,) That would have scour'd him else, and all his confines ; That would have rung him such a peal
Pin. Yes, backward. To make dogs howl. I know thee to a farthing ; Thy army's good for hawks; there's nothing but sheep's hearts in it. [Aside.
P. ofSij. I have done nothing, sir ; therefore I think it Convenient ' I say little what I purpos'd, And what my love intended.
K. of Ti. I like your modesty : — And, thank ye, royal friends ; I know it griev'd ye 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 man
Ruy. My countenance ", it shames me ! One scarce arriv'd, not harden'd yet, not read In dangers and great deeds, sea-sick, not season'd — Oh, I have boy'd myself! {Aside.
K. of Ti. This noble bulwark. This lance and honour of our age and kingdom, This that I never can reward, nor hope To be once worthy of the name of friend to, This, this man from the bowels of my sorrows Has new-begot my name, and once more made me :
Editors of 1778. That it is the true one, there caunot be a shadow of doubt ; yet S^-mpson and Weber preferred the downright nonsense of the old copies.
' Convenient] i. e. fittmg, becoming.
" My countenance] Sympsou proposed " 7»/y conscience " ; and Mason is inclined to read " My countryman ". — « Ruy Dias uses the expression by way of exclamation ; it amounts to as much as if he had said, With what counte- nance can I now look up ! " Heatu (MS. Notes).
SCENE VIII.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 455
Oil, sister, if there may be thanks for this, Or any thing near recompense invented
Arm. You are too noble, sir : there is reward, Above my action too by millions ; A recompense so rich and glorious, I durst not dream it mine, but that 'twas promis'd ; But that it was propounded, sworn, and seal'd Before the face of Heaven, I durst not hope it ; For nothing in the life of man or merit, It is so truly great, can else embrace it.
K. of Ti. 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 feel no liberty before I find it.
Arm. Then know, it is your sister ; she is mine, sir ; I claim 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.
K. ofTi. Receive you, sii- ! — Why, sister — ha! so backward! Stand as you knew me not ! nor what he has ventur'd ! My dearest sister —
Arm. Good sir, pardon me : There is a blushing modesty becomes her. That holds her back ; women are nice to woo, sir : I would not have her forcM ; give her fair liberty ; For things compell'd and frighted, of soft natures. Turn into fears, and fly from their own wishes.
K. of Ti. Look on him, my Quisara : such another, (Oh, all ye powers !) so excellent in nature. In honour so abundant
Quisara. I confess, sir ; Confess my word is passM too ; he has purchas'd '' : 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 are both strangers, And how we should believe so suddenly,
' purchased] i. c. gained the prize.
456 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [actii.
Or come to fasten our affections
Alas, Love has his comphments !
K. of Ti. Be sudden And certain in your way ; no woman's doubles, Nor coy delays .' you are 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 you can give a prisoner, And what fair looks a friend — Oh, 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. K. ofTi. And now lead on, our whole court crown'd with
pleasure ! Ruy. Madam, despair not ; something shall be done yet, And suddenly and wisely. [Aside to her.
Quisara. Oh, Ruy Dias !
[^Exeunt all except Piniero, Soza, and Christophkro. Pi7i. Well, he 's a brave fellow, and he has deserv'd her richly : And you have had your hands full, I dare swear, gentlemen. Soza. We have done something, sir, if it hit right. Christ. The woman has no eyes else, nor no honesty ; So much I think.
Pin. Come, let 's go bounce amongst 'em To the king's health and my brave countryman's. My uncle looks as though he were sick o' the worms, friends.
{^Exeunt.
scKNE I.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 457
ACT III.
SCENE I. — Tidore. Ait apartment in the Palace.
Enter Piniero. Pin. Mine " uncle haunts me up and down ; looks melan- choly, Wondrous proof-melancholy ; sometimes swears, Then whistles, starts, cries, and groans as if he had the bots '', (As, to say truth, I think h'as little better,) And would fain speak ; bids me good morrow at midnight, And good night when 'tis noon : h'as something hovers About his brains, that would ftiin find an issue. But cannot out, or dares not. Still he follows.
Enter RuY Dias. How he looks still, and how he beats about. Like an old dog at a dead scent ! — Ay, marry, There was a sigh would 'a ^ set a ship a-sailing ! These winds of love and honour blow at all ends. Now speak, an't be thy will ! \^Aside.^ — Good morrow, uncle.
Ruy. Good morrow, sir.
Pin. This is a new salute ; — Sure, h'as forgot me ; — this is pur-blind Cupid. {_Aside.
Ruy. My nephew ?
Pin. Yes, sir, if I be not changed.
Ruy. I would fain speak with you.
Pin. I would fain have you, sir ; For to that end I stay.
Ruy. You know I love you. And I have lov'd you long, my dear Piniero, Bred and supplied you
Pin. Whither walks this preamble ? [Aside.
" Mine^ The modern editors print "My ".
" the tots'] See note, vol. vi. 510.
>' 'rtj i. e. ha\ have. Silently omitted by the Editors of 1 778 ; and so Weber.
458 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act in.
Ruy. You may remember, though I am but your uncle, I sure had a father's care, a father's tenderness —
Pi7i. Sure, he would rap^ me into something now suddenly, He doubts my nature in (for mine is honest), He winds about me so. [_Aside.
Ruy. A father's diligence. My private benefits'' I have forgot, sir; But those you might lay claim to as my follower, Yet some men would remember ;
Pin. I do daily.
Riiy. The place which I have put you in, which is no weak one ; Next to myself you stand in all employments. Your counsels, cares, assignments, with me equal ; So is my study still to plant your person : These are small testimonies I have not forgot you, Nor would not be forgotten.
Pin. Sure, you cannot.
Ruy. Oh, Piniero
Pi7i. Sir, what hangs upon you ? What heavy weight oppresses you ? you have lost (I must confess, in those that understand you) Some little of your credit ; but time will cure that : The best may slip sometimes.
Ruy. Oh, my best nephew
Pin. It may be, you fear her too, — that disturbs you, — That she may fall herself, or be forcM from you.
Ruy. She is ever true ; but I undone for ever !
y rap'^ Both the folios " wrap " ; and so Sympsonand the Editors of 1778.— Mason first pointed out the right spelHng here. And see my Remarks on Mr. Collier's and Mr. Knight's editions of Shakespeare, p. 163, 4.
' My private benefits, &c.] Sympson proposed to read " My public benefits I have forgot, Be it those you might lay claim to as," &c. Heath's explanation of this passage (which agrees with Mason's) is as follows : " I have forgot, and think not worth urging, the benefits I have conferred on you in my private character as a friend and near relation ; but yet there are men who would remember those benefits which, as one of my followers and in common with the rest of them, you might think yourself entitled to a share of, and with which I have distinguished you above the others," &c. Weber gives a different, and, 1 thin];, an erroneous interpretation.
SCENE I.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 459
Oh, that Armusia, that new thing, that stranger, That flag stuck up to rob me of mine honour, That murdering chain shot at me from my country, That goodly plague that I must court to kill me !
Pin. Now it comes flowing from him : I fearM this, Knew, he that durst be idle durst be ill too. — \^Aside.
Has he not done a brave thing ?
Ruy. I must confess it, nephew, must allow it : But that brave thing has undone me, has sunk me. Has trod me, like a name in sand, to nothing. Hangs betwixt hope and me, and threatens ' my ruin ; And, if he rise and blaze, farewell my fortune ! And when that's set, where 's thy advancement, cousin? — That were a friend, that were a noble kinsman, That would consider these ; that man were grateful ; And he, that durst do something here, durst love me.
Pin. You say true ; 'tis worth consideration ; Your reasons are of weight : and, mark me, uncle, (For I '11 be sudden, and to the purpose with you,) Say this Armusia then were taken off, (As it may be easily done,) how stands the woman I
Ruy. She is mine for ever ; For she contemns his deed and him.
Pile. Pox on him ! Or, if the single pox be not sufficient,
The hog's, the dog's, and devil's pox possess him ! — \^Aside. Faith, this Armusia stumbles mc ; he 's a brave fellow ; And, if he could be spar'd, uncle
liuy. I must perish : Had he set up at any rest but this^ Done any thing but what concern'd my credit, 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 Till this hour ; and I see he is a knave indeed, An arrant, stinking knave, for now I smell him. — [Aside.
» threatens] Silently altered by Sympson to "threats" ; rightly perhaps. >• set up at any rest but Mis] "i. e. played for any other venture." Wkdek. See note, p. 112.
460 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act in.
I '11 see what may be done, then ; you shall know
You have a kinsman — but no villain, uncle,
Nor no betrayer of fair fame, I scorn it ;
I love and honour virtue [Aside]. — I must have
Access unto the lady to know her mind too :
A good word from her mouth, you know, may stir me ;
A lady's look at setting on
MuT/. You say well : Here, cousin, here 's a letter ready for you ; \^Gives letter.
And you shall see how nobly she '11 receive you, And with what care direct.
Pin. Farewell, then, uncle : After I have talk'd with her, I am your servant — To make you honest, if I can, else hate you. — [Aside.
Pray you, no more compliments ; my head is busy.
[Exit RuY DiAS. Heaven bless me,
What a malicious soul does this man carry ! And to what scurvy things this love converts us, What stinking things ! and how sweetly they become us ! Murder 's a moral virtue with these lovers, A special piece of divinity, I take it. I may be mad, or violently drunk, Which is a whelp of that litter ; or I may be covetous, And learn to murder men's estates, that 's base too ; Or proud, but that 's a pai'adise to this ; Or envious, and sit eating of myself At others' fortunes ; I may lie, and damnably, Beyond the patience of an honest hearer ; Cozen, cut purses, sit i' the stocks for apples : But when I am a lover, Lord have mercy ! These are poor pelting ^ sins, or rather plagues : Love and Ambition draw the devil's coach.
Etiter QuiSANA and Panura. How now ! who are these ? Oh, my great lady's followers, Her riddle-founders, and her fortune-tellers,
"> pe/ling] i. o. paltry (as before, vol. ii. 305) Here Seward in a long note
proposed a very violent alteration of the text.
SCENE I.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 461
Her readers of her love-lectures, her inflamcrs :
These doors I must pass through ; I hope they are wide. —
[^Aside. Good day to your beauties. — How they take it to 'em, As if they were fair indeed ! [Aside.
Quisana. Good morrow to you, sir.
Pin. That 's the old hen, the brood-bird ; how she bustles'^ ! How like an inventory of lechery she looks ! Many a good piece of iniquity
Has pass'd her hands, I warrant her [Aside^^. — I beseech you, Is the fair princess stirring ?
Pan. Yes, marry, is she, sir. But somewhat private : have you a business with her ?
Pm. Yes, forsooth, have I, and a serious business.
Pan. May not we know ?
Pi7i. Yes, when you can keep counsel.
Pan. How prettily he looks! he's a soldier, sure, His rudeness sits so handsomely upon him.
Quisana. A good blunt gentleman.
Piji. Yes, marry, am I : Yet for a push or two at sharp, an 't please you —
Pa7i. My honest friend, you know not who you speak to ; This is the princess'' aunt.
Pi7i. I like her the better ; An she were her mother, lady, or her grandmother, I am not so bashful but I can buckle with her.
Pan. Of what size is your business I
Pin. Of the long sixteens. And will make way, I warrant you.
Pa?i. How fine he talks !
Pin. Nay, in troth, I talk but coarsely, lady ; But I hold it comfortable for the understanding. — How fain they would draw me into ribaldry ! These wenches that live easily, live high, And'' love these broad discourses, as they love possets ; These dry delights serve for preparatives. {_Aside.
« lustles'\ Both the folios "busies" ; and so Sjimpson. The Editors of 1778 printed " brusles".
'' And'[ So the first folio. — Omitted in the second folio j and by the Editors of 1778.
462 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act in.
Pan, Why do you look so on me ? Pin. I am guessing. 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 another, gravity, under the princess ; And, by my [souK,] I warrant ye, good places. Comely commodious seats !
Quisana. Prithee, let him talk still, •For methinks he talks handsomely.
Pin. And truly. As near as my understanding shall enable me. — 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 ! And how their hearts go pit-a-pat, and look*^^ for it ! Would it not dance too, if it had a fiddle 1 — [Aside.
Your gravity I guess to take the petitions. And hear the lingering suits in love dispos'd. Their sighs and sorrows in their proper place ; You keep the Aye-me office?.
Quisana. Prithee, suffer him, For, as I live, he is a pretty fellow ! I love to hear sometimes what men think of us ; And thus deliver'd freely, His no malice.— Proceed, good honest man.
Pin. I will, good madam. According to men's states and dignities. Moneys 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 : Your ancient practique art too in these discoveries, Who loves at such a length, who a span farther. And who draws home, yield [s] you no little profit ; For these you milk by circumstance
= [soul] A break here in both the folios. ' lookl Mason would read "long".
e the Aye-me office] The Editors of 1778 printed "the Ah-me office". (Our old writers frequently use « Aye me ! " for " Ah me ! ".)
srF.NK I.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 463
Qiiisana. You are cunning.
Pin. And as they oil you, and advance your spindle, So you draw out the lines of love. Your doors too,
The doors of Destiny, that men must pass through
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, through at, And draw their states'* and bodies into cobwebs ; Your postern- doors, to catch those that are cautelous', And would not have the world's eye find their knaveries ; Your doors of danger (some men hate a pleasure. Unless that may be full of fears); your hope-doors, And those are fine commodities, where fools pay For every new encouragement a new custom : You have your doors of honour and of pleasure ; But those are for great princes, glorious vanities. That travel to be famous through 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.
Qidsana. This is a rare lecture.
Pin.. Read to them that understand.
Pan. Beshrew me, I dare not venture on you ; you cut too keen, sir.
Quisajia. We thank you, sir, for your good mirth ; you arc A good companion.
Here comes the princess now ; attend your business. Enter Quisaba.
Quisara. Is there no remedy, no hopes can help me ? No wit to set me free ? — AVho 's there, ho ?
Qidsana. Troubled? Her looks arc almost wild : what ails the princess ? I know nothing she wants.
K af] Both the foUos " it" ; and so Weber ! Compare the next line. '' states'] Is certainly used here in the sense of — estates ; and such perhaps is its meaning in the second line of Piuiero's preceding speech but one. ' cautelous] i. e. artfully cautious.
464 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act iii.
Quisai-a. Who 's that there with you? — Oh, Signior Piniero, you are most welcome ! How does your noble uncle ?
Pin. Sad as you are, madam : But he commends his service, and this letter. [ Gives letter.
Quisara. [To Quis. and Pan.] Go off; attend within. — Fair sir, I thank you : Pray J be no stranger, for indeed you are welcome. For your own virtues, welcome.
Quisana. We are mistaken ; This is some brave fellow, sure.
Paji. I ""m sure he 's a bold fellow : But, if she hold him so, we must believe it.
[_Exeunt Quisana and Panura .
Qidsara. Do you know of this, fair sir ?
Pin. I guess it, madam, And whither it intends : I had not brought it else.
Quisara. It is a business of no common reckoning.
Pin. The handsomer for him that goes about it ; Slight actions are rewarded with slight thanks : Give me a matter of some weight to wade in !
Qidsara. And can you love your uncle so directly, So seriously, and so full, to undertake this ? Can there be such a faith ?
Pin. Dare you say ay to it, And set me on ? ^tis no matter for my uncle, Or what I owe to him, dare you but wish it.
Quisara. I would fain
Pin. Have it done : — say but so, lady.
Quisara. Conceive it so.
Pin. I will ; 'tis that I am bound to ; Your will that must command me, and your pleasure, The fair aspects of those eyes that must direct me. I am no uncle's agent ; I am mine own, lady ; I scorn my able youth should plough for others, Or my ambition serve for pay : I aim. Although I never hit, as high as any man, And the reward I reach at shall be equal, And what love spurs me on to. This desire
SCENE I ] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 465
Makes me forget an honest man, a brave man,
A valiant and a virtuous man, my countryman,
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 have bestowed on others,
And see how suddenly I Ml work your safety,
And set your thoughts at peace ! I am no flatterer,
To promise infinitely, and out-dream dangers ;
To lie a-bed, and swear me ^ into fevers,
Like some of your trim suitors ; when I promise,
The light is not more constant to the world
Than I am to my word. — She turns, for millions ! [Aside.
Qiihara. I have not seen a braver confirm^ courage.
[Aside.
Pin. For a tun of crovNTis she turns ! she is a woman ; And, much I fear, a worse than I expected. — [Aside.
You are the object, lady, you are the eye In which all excellence appears, all wonder. From which all hearts take fire, all hands their valour : And when he ■" stands disputing, when you bid him. Or but thinks of his estate, father, mother, Friends, wife, and children, he 's a fool, and I scorn him ; An't be but to make clean his sword, a coward. Men have forgot their fealty to beauty :
J of all, the minion] The correction of the Editors of 1778.— Both the folios " of all the minions " ; and so Sympsou.
k This] So the second folio.— The first folio « Is". -Weber printed "His" (i.e. Armusia's). — Sjmpson proposed the following transposition, which, I am strongly inclined to believe, restores the passage to its genuine state ;
" This desire This love of you, doling upon your beauly, 1 he admiration of your excellence. Makes me forget an honest man, a brave man, A valiant and a virtuous man, ray countryman, Armusia, the delight of all, the minion. Make me but servant ", &c. ' me] Both the folios " men " ; and so the modern editoi-s. "" And v}hen he] " i. e. any he whom you lay your commands on." Weber. Sympson printed "And he who ", which Mason approves of. VOL. VU. II H
466 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act hi.
Had I the place in your affections
My most unworthy uncle is fit to fall from,
Liv'd in those blessed eyes, and read the stories
Of everlasting pleasures figurM there,
1 would find out your commands, before you thought 'em,
And bring 'em to you done, ere you dreamt of 'em.
Qjiisara. I admire his boldness. ^Aside.
Pin. This, or any thing ; Your brother"'s death, mine uncle's, any man's, •No state that stands secure, if you frown on it. Look on my youth, — I bring no blastings to you, — The first flower of my strength, my faith.
Qjdsara. No more, sir ; I am too willing to believe : rest satisfied, If you dare do for me, T shall be thankful. You are a handsome gentleman, a fair one ; My servant, if you please : I seal it thus, sir. ^Kisses him. No more, till you deserve more.
Pin. I am rewarded. \^Exit Quisara.
This woman 's cunning, but she 's bloody too ; Although she pulls her talons in, she 's mischievous ; FormM like the face of heaven, clear and transparent. 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. Well, uncle, What will become of this, and what dishonour Follow this fatal shaft, if shot, let time tell : I can but only fear, and strive to cross it ". \^Exit.
SCENE 11. — The same. Another apartment in the Palace. Enter Armusia, Emanuel, and Soza. Eman. Why are you thus sad 'I wliat can grieve or vex you. That have the pleasures of the world, the profits, The honour, and the loves at your disposes ? Why should a man that wants nothing want his quiet ? Arm. I want what beggars are above me in, content ;
" strive to cross it] So the second folio. — The first folio " crosse to crosse it ".
CENE ii.l THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 467
I want the grace I liave merited, the favour, The due respect.
Soza. Does not the king allow it ?
Arm. Yes, and all honours else, all I can ask. That he 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 ; That should at least acknowledge me, speak to me —
Soza. And you go whining up and dowTi for this, sir \ Lamenting and disputing of your grievances I Sighing and sobbing, like a sullen school-boy, And cursing good-wife Fortune for this favour ?
Arm. What would you have me do I
Soza. Do what you should do, What a man would do in this case, a wise man, An understanding man that knows a woman, Knows her and all her tricks, her scorns, and all her ^ trifles : Go to her, and take her in your arras, and shake her ; Take her, and toss her like a bar.
Email. But be sure you pitch her upon a feather-bed, Shake her between a pair of sheets, sir ; there shake These sullen fits out of her, spare her not there ; There you may break her will, and bruise no bone, sir.
Soza. Go to her
Email. That's the way.
Soza. And tell her, and boldly, And do not mince the matter, nor mock yourself, With being too indulgent to her pride ; Let her hear roundly from you, what you are. And what you have deserv'd, and what she must be.
Eman. And be not put off, like a common fellow, With " The princess would be private ", Or, that she has taken physic, and admits none : I would talk to her any where.
Arm. It makes me smile.
° all her'] Tliesc words were pci'haps inscrU'd bv a mistake of tlie transcriber or printer.
H II 2
468 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act m.
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.
Arm. I shall do something ; But not your way ; it shews too boisterous ; For my affections are as fair and gentle As her they serve.
Soza. The king.
Enter the King of Tidore.
K. of Ti. 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 : Why sad, thus sad still, man ? I will not have it ; I must not see the face I love thus shadow'd.
Eman. An ^t please your grace, methinks it ill becomes him ; A soldier should be jovial, high, and lusty,
K. of Ti. He shall be so. — Come, come, I know your reason ; It shall be none to cross you : you shall have her ; 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 shall be, sir. And ever your poor servant.
K. of Ti. Me myself, sir. My better self. — I shall find time, and suddenly, To gratify your loves too, gentlemen, And make you know how much I stand bound to you : Nay, 'tis not worth your thanks ; no further compliment. — Will you go with me, friend I
Arm. I beseech your grace. Spare me an hour or two ; I shall wait on you ; Some little private business with myself, sir, For such a time.
K. of Ti. 1 11 hinder no devotion. For I know you are regular.— I '11 take you, gentlemen,
scENK II.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. . 169
Because he shall have nothing to disturb him. — I shall look for you, friend P. Arm. I dare not fail, sir.
[E.veimt King of Tidore, Emanuel, a7id Soza. ^\'^hat shall I do to make her know my misery ?
Enter Panura. To make her sensible ? — This is her woman : I have a toy'' come to me suddenly ; It may work for the best ; she can but scorn me, And lower than I am 1 cannot tumble ; I '11 try, whatever my fate be lAside}- — Good even, fair one.
Pan. 'Tis the brave stranger lAside'^. — A good night to you, sir. — Now, by my lady's hand, a goodly gentleman ! How happy shall she be in such a husband ! Would I were so provided too ! [Aside.
Arm. Good pretty one, Shall I keep you company for an hour or two ? I want employment for this evening : I am an honest man.
Pa7i. I dare believe you ; Or, if you were not, sir, that ""s no great matter ; We take men's promises. Would you stay with me, sir ?
Ann. So it please you : pray, let 's be better acquainted ; I know you are the princess' gentlewoman, And wait upon her near
Pa7i. 'Tis like I do so.
Arm. And may befriend a man, do him fair courtesies, If he have business your way
Pan. I understand you.
Ai-m. So kind an office, that you may bind a gentleman Hereafter to be yours, and your way too ; And you may bless the hour you did this benefit : Sweet handsome faces should have courteous minds, And ready faculties.
Pan. Tell me your business :
1' for you, friend] Both the folios "for youv friend". 1 toy] i. e. whim, fancy.
470 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [aci m.
Yet if, I think, it be'' to her, yourself, sir, (For I know what you are, and what we hold you, And in what grace you stand,) without a second, (For that but darkens you,) would do it better : The princess must be pleas'd with your accesses ; I 'm sure I should.
Arm. I want a courtier^'s boldness. And am yet but a stranger : I would fain speak with her.
Pan. Tis very late, and upon her hour of sleep, sir.
Arm. Pray you, wear this, and believe my meaning civil,
\_Gives ajeivel. My business of that fair respect and carriage : This for our more acquaintance. [^Kisses her.
Pan. How close he kisses ! and how sensible The passings of his lips are ! I must do it, An I were to be hang'd now, and I will do it : He may do as much for me ; that 's all I aim at ; And come what will on 't, life or death, I '11 do it For ten such kisses more, an 't were high-treason. \^Aside.
Arm. I would be private with her.
Pan. So you shall ; 'Tis not worth thanks else. You must despatch quick.
Arm. Suddenly.
Pan. And I must leave you in my chamber, sir, Where you must lock yourself that none may see you : "Tis close to her[s^ : you cannot miss the entrance. When she comes down to bed.
Ai-m. I understand you. And once more thank you, lady.
Pan. Thank me but thus.
Arm. If I fail thee
Pan. Come close, then^ ^Exeunt.
' Vet if, I think, it be] Qy. " Vet, I tkhik, if it be"?
Arm. // / fail thee
Pau. Come close, then] In both the foHos thus ;
"Ar7n. If I failethee
Come close theu ". The break marks, I suspect, the omission of some imprecatiou : "close", i. e. secret, private.
SCENE III. 1 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 471
SCENE III. — The same. A bed-chamber in the Palace.
Enter Qcisara and Quisana.
Quisara. 'Tis late ; good aunt, to bed : I am e'en unready^; My woman will not be long away.
Qiiisana. I would have you A little merrier first : let me sit by you, And read or discourse something that you fancy ; Or take my instrument.
Quisara. No, no, I thank you ; I shall sleep without these. I wrong your age, aunt, To make you wait thus ; pray, let me intreat you : To-morrow I will see you ; I know you 're sleepy, And rest will be a welcome guest : you shall not. Indeed you shall not stay. Oh, here 's my woman.
Enter Panura. Good night, good night ; and good rest, aunt, attend you !
Qiiisana. Sleep dwell upon your eyes, and fair dreams court you ! [_Exit.
Quisara. Come, where have you been, wench? Make me unready : I slept but ill last night.
Pan. You '11 sleep the better I hope to-night, madam.
Quisara. A little rest contents me : Thou lov'st thy bed, Panura.
Pan. I am not in love, lady, Nor seldom dream of devils ; I sleep soundly.
Quisara. I ^11 swear thou dost : thy husband would not take it so well, If thou wert married, wench.
Pan. Let him take, madam, The way to waken me ; I am no dormouse : Husbands have 'larum-bells, if they but ring once.
Quisara. Thou art a merry wench.
Pan. I shall live the longer.
• unready] "i, e. undressed." Wkbee.
472 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act hi.
Quisara. Prithee, fetch my book.
Pan. I am glad of that. [Aside.
Quisara. I '11 read a while before I sleep.
Pan. I will, madam.
Quisara. And if Ruy Dias meet you, and be importunate, He may come in.
Pa7i. I have a better fare for you : Now least in sight play I. [Aside, and then exit.
Enter Arjicsia softly., and locks the door.
Quisara. Why should I love him I Why should I dote upon a man deserves not. Nor has no will to work it ? — Who 's there, wench ? — What are you I or whence come you ?
Arm. You may know me ; I bring not such amazement, noble lady.
Quisara. AVho let you in ?
Arm. My restless love, that serves you.
Quisara. This is an impudence I have not heard of, A rudeness that becomes a thief or ruffian ; Nor shall my brother s love protect this boldness. You build so strongly on : my rooms are sanctuaries, And with that reverence, they that seek my favours, And humble fears, shall render their approaches.
Arm. Mine are no less.
Quisara. I am 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 '11 cry out else.
Arm. Oh, dear lady !
Quisara. I see dishonour in your eyes.
Arm. There is none : By all that beauty, they are innocent ! Pray you, tremble not ; you have no cause.
Quisara. I '11 die fii'st ; Before you have your will, be torn in pieces ; The little strength I have left me to resist you, The gods will give me more, before I am forcM To that I hate, or suffer
SCENE III.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 473
Arm. You wrong my duty.
Quisara. So base a violation of my liberty ! I know you are bent unnobly : I '11 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. Lad}', [^Kneels.
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 griefs and sorrows that grow here, an impudence ? These forcings and these fears I bring along with me, These impudent abuses offered 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 your quiet ! A heavy curse light on it, when I intend it !
Quisara. 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 [any] violence that became not man. You have a thousand bulwarks to assure you : The holy powers bear shields to defend chastity ; Your honour and your virtues are such armours, Your clear thoughts such defences. If you misdoubt still,
\_Offers his sword. And yet retain a fear I am not honest, QBut that I] come" with impure thoughts to this place, Take this, and sheathe it here ; be your own safety ;
» offer' d you] " I think we should read • offer to you'." Surely, not. ' [Bui that /] come, &c.] Sympson silently printed, —
" But come with impure thoughts into this place".
474 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act m.
Be wise, and rid your fears, and let me perish : How willing shall I sleep to satisfy you !
Quisara. No ; I believe now, you speak worthily. What came you, then, for ?
Arm. To complain me, beauty ; But modestly.
Qiiisara. Of what I
Arm. Of your fierce cruelty (For, though I die, I will not blame the doer) ; Humbly to tell your grace you had forgot me ; A little to have touched at, not accus'd (For that I dare not do) your scorns — pray, pardon me, And be not angry that I use the liberty To urge that word ; a little to have shewed you What I have been, and what done to deserve you ; If any thing that love commands may reach you, To have remember'd you (but I am 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 : pray, be not angry.
Quisara. I thank you, sir ; and let me tell you seriously, You have taken now the right way to befriend you, And to beget a fair and clear opinion : Yet, to try your obedience
Arm. I stand ready, lady. Qiiisara. Without presuming to ask any thing, Or at this time to hope for further favour^, Or to remember services or smiles,
" to that misery falls'^ Heath (^M.S. Notes) would read " 'tis that misery foils", — a very ingenious, but unueeessary, alteration. * Arm. / stand ready, lady.
Quisara. Without presuming to ask any thing. Or at this time to hope for further favour, &c.] Both the folios thus ;
"Arm. I stand read/, Lady, Without presuming to aske any thing.
Quisar. Or at this time to hope for further favour", &c. Sympsou remarked that "the second line evidently belongs to the pi-iiicess" ; yet he, as also the Editors of 1778 and Weber, preferred the distribution of the folios.
SCENE III.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 475
Dangers you have pass'd through, and rewards due to 'em, Loves or despairs, but, leaving all to me, Quit this place presently. Arm. I shall obey you.
Enter Ruy Dias.
Rut/. Ha!
Ann. Who's this ?— What art thou ?
Ruy. A gentleman.
Arm. Thou art no more, I 'm sure. — Oh, 'tis Ruy Dias : How high he looks, and harsh ! \_ Aside.
Ruy. Is there not door enough, You take such elbow-room ?
Arm. If I take it, I '11 carry it.
Ruy. Does this become you, princess ?
Ann. The captain 's jealous, Jealous of that he never durst deserve yet. Go freely, go ; I '11 give thee leave.
Ruy. Your leave, sir !
Arm. Yes, my leave, sir : I '11 not be troubled neither, Nor shall my heart ache, or my head be jealous. Nor strange suspicious thoughts reign in my memory ; Go on, and do thy worst ; I '11 smile at thee. — I kiss your fair hand first ; — then, farewell, captain. Y^xit.
Quisara. What a pure soul inherits here ! what innocence ! Sure, I was blind when I first lovM this fellow, And long to live in that fog still : how he blusters ! [Aside.
Ruy. Am I your property i or those your flatteries The banquets that you bid me to, the trust I build my goodly hopes on ?
Quisara. Be more temperate.
Ruy. Are these the shows of your respect and favour ' What did he here, what language had he witli you ? Did you invite [him] i could you stay no longer i Is he so gracious in your eye i
Quisara. You are too forward.
Ruy. Why at these private hours 1
Quisu7-a. You are too saucy, Too impudent, to task> me with those errors :
> ^«iAJ " i. e. tax. " Mason.
476 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act iir.
Do you know what I am, sir, and my prerogative ?
Though you be a thing I have callM by the name of friend,
I never taught you to dispose my Hberty:
How durst you touch mine honour ? blot my meanings ?
And name an action, and of mine, but noble 1
Thou poor unworthy thing, how have I grac'd thee !
How have I nourished thee and rais'd thee hourly !
Are these the gratitudes you bring, Ruy Dias ?
The thanks ? the services ? I am fairly paid :
Was 't not enough I saw thou wert a coward, And shadow'd thee ? no noble sparkle in thee ? Daily provok'd ^ thee, and still found thee coward ? Rais'd noble causes for thee strangers started at, Yet still, still, still a coward, ever coward ? And, with those taints, dost thou upbraid my virtues I Ruy. I was to blame, lady.
Quisara. So blindly bold to touch at riiy behaviour ? Durst thou but look amiss at my allowance ? If thou hadst been a brave fellow, thou hadst had some licence ; Some liberty I might have then allowed thee For thy good face, some scope to have argu'd with me : But being nothing but a sound, a shape, The mere sign of a soldier, of a lover The dregs and draffy part, disgrace and jealousy, I scorn thee, and contemn thee. Rut/. Dearest lady.
If I have been too free
Quisara. Thou hast been too foolish : And go on still ; I '11 study to forget thee ;— I would I could ! — and yet I pity thee. [ExiL
Ruy. I am not worth it ; if I were, that 's misery : The next door is but death; I must aim at it. \^Exit.
"^ provok'd'\ i.e. incited.
SCENE I. ] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 477
ACT IV.
SCENE I. — Tklore. An apartment in the Palace.
Enter the King of Tidore, and the Governor of Ternata disguised as a Moorish Priest.
K. of Ti. So far and truly you have discover'd to me The former currents of my hfe and fortune, That I am bound to acknowledge you most holy, And certainly to credit your predictions Of what are yet to come.
G. of Tern. I am no liar. — 'Tis strange I should, and live so near a neighbour : But these are not my ends. [Aside.
K. of Ti. Pray you, sit, good father. — Certain a reverend man, and most religious. [^Aside.
G. of Tern. Ay, that beliefs well now; and let me work, then ; I '11 make you curse religion ere I leave you. — \_Aside.
I have liv'd a long time, son, a mew'd-up man, SequesterM by the special hand of Heaven From the world's vanities ; bid farewell to follies, And shook hands with all heats of youth and pleasures : As in a dream, these twenty years I have slumber'd ; Many a cold moon have I, in meditation And searching out the hidden wills of Heaven, Lain shaking under ; many a bm-ning sun Has sear'd my body, and boiFd up my blood, Feebled my knees, and stamp'd a meagreness Upon my figure, all to find out knowledge ; Which I have now attain'd to, thanks to Heaven, All for my country's good too : and many a vision, Many a mystic vision have I seen, son, And many a sight from Heaven, which has been terrible, Wherein the goods and evils of these islands Were lively shadow'd ; many a charge I have had too,
478 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act iv.
Still as the time grew ripe to reveal these, To travel and discover : now I am come, son, The hour is now appointed, my tongue is touch'd, And now I speak.
K. of Ti. Do, holy man ; I '11 hear you.
G. of Tern. Beware these Portugals, I say beware 'em ; These smooth-facM strangers, have an eye upon 'em : The cause is now the gods' : hear, and believe, king.
K. of Ti. I do hear : but, before I give rash credit, ' Or hang too light on belief, which is a sin, father, Know I have found 'em gentle, faithful, valiant, And am in my particular bound to ""em, I mfean to some, for my most strange deliverance.
G. of Tern. Oh, son, the future aims of men, (observe me,) Above their present actions, and their glory, Are to be look'd at ! the stars shew many turnings. If you could see, mark but, with my eyes, pupil. These men came hither, as my vision tells me, Poor, weather-beaten, almost lost, starved, feebled, Their vessels, like themselves, most miserable ; Made a long suit Tor traffic, and for comfort. To vent their children's toys, cure their diseases : They had their suit, they landed, and to the rate Grew rich and powerful, suck'd the fat and freedom Of this most blessed isle, taught her to tremble, — Witness the castle here, the citadel. They have clapt upon the neck of your Tidore (This happy town, till that she knew these strangers), To check her when she 's jolly.
K. of Ti. They have so indeed, father.
G. of Tern. Take heed, take heed : I find your fair delivery, (Though 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 mischief: Mark but the end, good king, the pin » he shoots at,
» the pm] i. e. the wooden peg in the very centre of the butt (to cleave wliich was the greatest feat of the archer).
SCENE II.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 479
That was the man deliver'd you, the mirror ! Your sister is his due : what 's she ? your heir, sir ; And what is he a-kin, then, to ? the kingdom : But heirs are not ambitious ; who, then, suffers l What reverence shall the gods have ? and what justice The miserable people ? what shall they do ?
K. of Ti. He points at truth directly. \^Aside.
G. of Tern. Think of these, son : The person nor the manner I mislike not Of your preserver, nor the whole man together, Were he but seasonM in the faith we are. In our devotions learn'd.
K. of Ti. You say right, father.
G. of Tern. To change our worships now and our religion ! To be traitor to our gods '^ !
K. of Ti. You have well advis'd me, And I will seriously consider, father. In the mean time, you shall have your fair access Unto my sister : advise her to your purpose. And let me still know how the gods determine.
G. of Tern. I will. — But my main end is to advise \^Aside. The destruction of you all, a general ruin ; And when "^ I am reveng'd, let the gods whistle ! \_Exeunt.
SCENE U.— The same. Before the Palace.
Enter Ruy Dias and Piniero.
Buy. Indeed, I am right glad you were not greedy. And sudden in performing what I will'd you Upon the person of Armusia ; I was afraid, for I well knew your valour, And love to me.
Pin. 'Twas not a fair thing, uncle ; It shew'd not handsome, carried no man in it.
'' gods'\ Both the folios " God ". Compare the next two speeches.
« vihenl So the second folio. — The first folio " then " ; and so the Editors of 1778 ; so too Weber, who says that " wheii. is understood in tiiis passage ", and who evidently supposed that " when " was a conjectural emendation of Sympson (whom he calls Seward).
480 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act iv.
Rui/. I must confess 't was ill, and I abhor it ; Only this good has risen from this evil, I have tried your honesty, and find [it] proof, A constancy that will not be corrupted, And I much honour it.
Pin. This bell sounds better.
Ruy. My anger now, and that disgrace I have suffered, Shall be more manly vented, and wip'd off, And my sick honour curVl the right and straight way : - My sword 's in my hand now, nephew, my cause upon it, And man to man, one valour to another,
My hope to his
Pin. Why, this is like Ruy Dias ; This carries something of some substance in it, Some mettle and some man ; this sounds a gentleman ^' ; And now methinks you utter what becomes you : To kill men scurvily, 'tis such a dog-trick,
Such a rat-catcher's occupation
Rvy. It is no better :
But, Piniero, now
Pin. Now you do bravely.
Ruy. The difference of our states flung by, forgotten, 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
Pin. In a service, sir, Of this most noble nature, all I am, If I had ten lives more, those and my fortunes Are ready for you. I had thought you had Forsworn fighting, 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, And thou shalt see what fire they carry in them : Here ; you guess what this means ? [ Gives a challenge.
Pin. Yes, very well, sir ; A portion of scripture that puzzles many an interpreter. ^ sounds a gentleman] "i.e. sounds /tA:e a gentleman." Mason.
SCENE II.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 181
Ruy. As soon as you can find him
Pin. That will not be long, uncle ; And, o' my conscience, he '11 be ready as quickly.
Rut/. I make no doubt, good nephew. Carry it so, If you can possible, that we may fight
Pin. Nay, you shall fight, assure yourself.
Riiy. Pray you, hear me — In some such place where it may be possible The princess may behold us.
Pin. I conceive you : Upon the sand behind the castle, sir, A place remote enough ; and there be windows Out of her lodgings too, or I am mistaken.
Ruy. You 're i' the right : if you can work that hand- somely
Pin. Let me alone ; and, pray, be you prepar'd Some three hours hence.
Ruy. I will not fail.
Pin. Get you home ; And, if you have any things to dispose of, or a few light
prayers That may befriend you, run 'em over quickly : I warrant, I W bring him on.
Ruy. Farewell, nephew ; And, when we meet again
Pin. Ay, ay, fight handsomely : Take a good draught or two of wine to settle you ;
\^E.xit Ruy Dias. 'Tis an excellent 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, Intended such base courses. He will fight now. And, I believe, too, bravely ; I have seen him Curry a fellow's carcase handsomely ; And in the head of a troop, stand as if he luul been rooted
there, Dealing large doles of death. VVliat a rascal was I, I did not see his will drawn !
VOL. VII. I I
482 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act iv.
Enter Quisara.
What does she here ? If there be any mischief toward, a woman makes one still : Now what new business is for me ? \^ Aside.
Quisara. I was sending for you ; But since we have * met so fair, you have sav'd that labour : I must entreat you, sir
Pin. Any thing, madam ; Your wills are my commands.
Quisara. You 're nobly courteous. Upon my better thoughts, Siguier Piniero, And my more peaceable considerations (Which now I find the richer ornaments), I would desire you to attempt no farther Against the person of the noble stranger (In truth, I am asham'd of my share in 't), Nor be incited farther 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 unheard-of cruelty : Good sir, desist.
Pi?i. You speak now like a woman. 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 the same way, madam, Or I stand bound still.
Quisara. That shall not endanger you : Look you, fair sir, thus I take off that duty. [^Kisses 1dm.
Pin. By the mass, 'twas soft and sweet ! some bloods would bound now, And run a-tilt [^Aside]. — Do not you think, bright beauty. You have done me, in this kiss, a mighty favour. And that I stand bound, by virtue of this honour. To do whatever you command me ?
Quisara. I think, sir, From me these are unusual courtesies,
' have} Weber chose to print " ai*e " !
SCENE It.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 48;i
And ought to be respected so : there are some, And men of no mean rank, would hold themselves Not poorly bless'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 villanies, 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, The appurtenance of this kiss would not provoke me To do a mischief; 'tis the devil's own dance To be kiss'd into cruelty.
Quisara. I am glad you make that use, sir.
Pi?i. I am gladder That you made me believe you were cruel '^ ; For, by this hand, I know I am so honest, However I deceiv'd you, ('t was high time too ; Some common slave might 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 find : to kill a man •' !
K That you made me believe you were crue/j Seward proposed to read,
" You made me but believe that you ivere cruel ".
^ to kill a man !
If you will give me leave to get another, &c.] " This passage, altliough unnoticed by any of the editors, is absolute nonsense as it stauds. It is probable that some line is omitted, which I shall not attempt to supply. No change of any of the words only will reduce it to sense." M.\son. " I think, with this commentator, that a line or two must have been omitted, which is no uncommon thing in old plays. Piniero probably said, that though Quisara, or any other beauty, would grant him the last favour, he would never go by her commands, or prefer giving way to her fancy or inclination to deprecate her wrath. Fancy may in this place, as in numei'ous other instances, signify love." Weber, — who is evidently wrong in supposing that "fancy " may here mean love. — Heath {^MS. Notes) would make a transposition and point the passage thus :
" to kill a man, And, 'fore a woman's anger, prefer her fancy ! If you will give me leave to get another. Or any she that play'd the best game at it "
i. e. ' to kill a man, and, for fear of incurring a woman's displeasure, obey the
I I 2
484 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act iv.
If you will give mo leave to get another, Or any she that play'd the best game at it,
********
And, 'fore a woman's anger, prefer her fancy.
Quisara. I take it in you well.
Pin. I thank you, lady ; And I shall study to confirm it.
Quisara. Do, sir ; For this time, and this present cause, I allow it.
[Exit PiNiEno.
Enter the Governor of Ternata disguised as before, Quisana, and Panura. Most holy sir !
G. of Tern. Bless you, my royal daughter ! And, in you, bless this island. Heaven !
Quisara. Good aunt. What think j'ou of this man ?
Quisana. Sure, he 's a wise man, And a religious : he tells us things have happen'd So many years ago, almost forgotten, As readily as if they were done this hour.
Quisara. Does he not meet with your sharp tongue ?
Pan. He tells me, madam. Marriage and mouldy cheese will make me tamer.
G. of Tern. A stubborn keeper, and worse fare, An open stable, and cold care, Will tame a jade, may be your share.
Pa7i. ByV lady, a sharp prophet ! When this proves good, 1 '11 bequeathe you a skin to make you a hood.
G. of Tern. Lady, I would talk with you.
Quisara. Do, reverend sir.
G. of Tern. And foryour good, for that that must concern you; And give ear wisely to me.
Quisara. I shall, father.
dictates of her c.iprice ! If you, or the loveliest of your sex, would reward me
for it with your choicest favours ' The seutcnce is here interrupted ; but
we must suppose he meant to add, ' I would with scorn reject the temptation'."
I
SCENE 11.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 485
G. of Tern. You are a princess of that excellenco, Sweetness, and grace, that angel-hke fair feature, — Nay, do not blush, I do not flatter you. Nor do I dote in telling this, — I am amaz'd, lady ; And, as I think, the gods bestowM these on you, The gods that love you.
Quisara. I confess their bounty.
G. of Tern. Apply it, then, to their use, to their honour, To them and to their service give this sweetness ; They have an instant great use of your goodness : You are a saint esteem'd here for your beauty. And many a longing heart
Quisara. I seek no fealty ; Nor will I blemish that Heaven has seaPd on me ; I know my worth : indeed the Portugals I have at those commands, and their last services, Nay, even their lives, so much I thank ' my handsomeness. That what I shall enjoin
G. of Tern. Use it discreetly (For I perceive you understand me rightly). For here the gods regard your help, and suddenly : The Portugals, like sharp thorns (mark me, lady,) Stick in our sides ; like razors, wound religion, Draw deep, they wound till the life-blood follows' ; Our gods they spurn at, and their worships scorn ; A mighty hand they bear upon our government : These are the men your miracle must work 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,) To nip their memory, that may not ^ spring more. Or fairly bring 'em home to our devotions ; Which will be blessed, and for which you sainted, — But cannot be; an they go, let me bustle J ! [Jside.
' thank] The folios " thinke " and " think " ; and so the modern editoi-s. J Draw deep, they wound till the life-blood follows} Sympson silently printed, — " Drawn deep, thy wound, until the life-blood follows " , and so the Editoi-s of 1778.
^ that may nof} Qy. " that it may not" !
> But cannot be ; an they yo, let me bustle'] In both the folios thus, — " But cannot be, and they yo ; let me buzzle " ;
486 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act iv.
Quisara. Go up with me, where we '11 converse more pri- vately : I '11 shew you shortly how I hold their temper, And in what chain their souls.
G. of Tern. Keep fast that hold still, And either bring that chain, and those bound in it, And link it to our gods and their fair worships, Or, daughter, pinch their hearts a-pieces with it. I '11 wait upon your grace.
Quisara. Come, reverend father. — Wait you below. [Exeunt Quisaba and Governor of Ternata.
Pan. If this prophet were a young thing, 1 should suspect him now, he cleaves so close to her ; These holy coats are long, and hide iniquities.
Quisana. Away, away, fool ! a poor wretch.
Pan. These poor ones, AVarm but their stomachs once
Quisana. Come in; thou art foolish. [Exeunt.
SCENE 111.— The same. The sea-beach.
Enter Armusia, Emanuel, and Piniero. Arm. I am sorry, sir, my fortune is so stubborn, To court my sword against my countryman : 1 love my nation well ; and where I find A Portugal of noble name and virtue, I am his humble servant. Siguier Piniero, Your person, nor your uncle's, am I angry with ; You are both fair gentlemen in my opinion, And, I protest, I had rather use my sword In your defences than against your safeties : 'Tis, methinks '% a strange dearth of enemies, AViien we seek foes among ourselves.
aud so Sympson and the Editors of 1778. — "The last Une is said aside, aud should run thus —
' But cannot be ; an they go, let me bustle ', or —
' But cannot be ; and they gone, let me bustle '. I should prefer the former, as nearer to the old reading ; aud the word and is frefiuently written instead of an." Mason.
•» 'Tis, mclhhiks} Silently altered by Sympsou to "Methinks, 'tis".
sctxiiui.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 487
Email. You are injur'd, And you must make the best on't now, and readiest.
Arm. You see I am ready in the place, and arni'd, To his desire that call'd me.
Pin. You speak honestly, And I could wish ye had met on terms more friendly ; But it cannot now be so.
Enter Ruy Dias. Email. Turn, sir, and see. Pin. I have kept my word with you, luicle ; The gentleman is ready.
QuisARA, and the Governor of Teruata disguised as before, appear at a tcindoic of the Palace.
Arm. You are welcome.
Ruy. Bid those fools welcome that affect ' your courtesy ; I come not to use compliment. You have wrong\l me ; And you shall feel, proud man, ere I part from you. The effects of that : if Fortune do not fool me. Thy life is mine, and no hope shall redeem thee.
Ann. That 's a proud word ; more than your faith can justify.
Qnisara. Sure, they will fight.
Ruy. She is there ; I am happy. [Aside.
G. of Tern. Let 'em alone ; let 'em kill one another. — These are the main posts ; if they fall, the buildings Will tumble quickly. [Aside.
Qaisara. How temperate Arniusia !
G. of Tern. No more ; be quiet yet '".
' affect] i. e. love, like.
"■ Quisara. How temperate Armusia !
G. of Tern. No more ; he quiet yet] Both the folios thus ;
" Quisar. How temperate Arinusia ? No more, be quiet yet."
and so Sympson, though he suggested in a note that " possibly the words ' No more ; be quiet yet ' belong to the Governor". — The Editors of 1778 and Weber followed Sympson's suggestion; and I unhesitatingly do so too ; though Heath {MS. Notes) observes, " I see no reason why these words are not as proper in tlie mouth of Quisara to silence the Governor, as in that of the Governor liimself."
488 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act it.
Arm. I am not bloody, Nor do not feel such mortal malice in me ; But, since we cannot both enjoy the princess, I am resolv'd to fight.
Ruy. Fight home, Armusia ; For, if thou faint'st or fall'st
Ai'm. Do you make all vantages.
Ruy. All ways, unto thy life : I will not spare thee, Nor look not for thy mercy ".
Arm. 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.
G. of Tern. I am sorry for 't. [Aside.
JSman. But, since you will have it so i'
Huy. Come, sir.
Arm. I wait you. [Theyjlyht.
Pin. Ay, marry, this looks handsomely, this is warm work !
G. of Tern. Both fall, an 't be thy will ! [Aside.
[Ruy T)i KB falls.
Pin. My uncle dead ! [Braics.
Eman. Stand still, or my sword's in.
Arm. Now, brave Ruy Bias, Now where 's your confidence ? Your prayers, quickly ! Your own spite has condemned you.
° thy mercy'] To my surpi-ise, Heath {AIS. Notes) says that the right reading is " my mercy." Tiie meaning of the passage evidently is — I will not spare thee, nor do I look for thy mercy, — mercy at thy hands.
° stir'\ So the second folio. — The first folio leaves a space for the word (which probably the compositor of that folio could not decypher).
P G. of Tern. I am sorry for' t. [Aside.
Emau. But, since you will have it so — ] " Both these hnes belong to Emanuel, sorry that the seconds are not permitted to fight ; or both to Armusia, for the unhappy necessity he lay under of fighting with his countryman. If it was left to me, I believe I should determine in favour of Emunud." Simpson, — who must have written this note in a fit of downright obtuseuess. " The Governor is disappointed at Ruy Dias' and Armusia's preventing two more Portugals from cutting each other's throats." Heath {MS. Notes'). " It has been ah'eady observed (vol. iii. 484) that the seconds, as well as the principals in duels, fought." WiiBiiu.
SCENE HI.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 489
Quisara. Hold, Armusia !
Arm. Most happy lady !
Quisara. Hold, and let him rise ; Spare him for me !
Arm. A long life may he enjoy, lady !
G. of Tern. What ha' you done I 'tis better they had all perish'd.
Quisara. Peace, father ; I work for the best. — Armusia, Be in the garden an hour hence.
Arm. I shall, madam. [Quisara ajid Governor of Ternata
withdraiv froin the loindoiv.
Pin. Now, as I live, a gentleman at all inches ! So brave a mingled temper saw I never.
Arm. Why are you sad, sir ? how would this have griev'd you, If you had fain under a profess'd enemy ? Under one had taken vantage of your shame too ? Pray you, be at peace : I am so far from wronging you. Or glorying in the pride of such a victory, That I desire to serve you : pray, look cheerfully.
Pin. Do you hear this, sir I this love, sir ? do you see this gentleman. How he courts you ? why do you hold your head down ? 'Tis no high- treason, I take it, to be equalFd; To have a slip i' the field, no sin that 's mortal : Come, come; thank Fortune and your friend.
Arm. It may be You think my tongue may prove your enemy, And, though restrain'd, sometimes, out of a bravery, May take a license to disable ^ you : Believe me, sir, so much I hate that liberty, That in a stranger"'s tongue 'twill prove an injury. And I shall right you in 't.
Pin. Can you have more, uncle ?
liny. Sir, you have beat me both ways ; yet so nobly, That I shall ever love the hand that did it : Fortune may make me worthy of some title That may be near your friend.
'1 disable} i. o. undei-value, spuak tlotractiugly of.
490 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act iv.
Ann. Sir, I must leave you, But with so hearty love — and, pray, be confident, I carry nothing from this place shall wrong you.
[^Exeunt Armusia and Emanuel.
Pin. Come, come ; you are right again, sir : love your honour. And love your friend ; take heed of bloody purposes, And unjust ends — good Heaven is angry with 'em ; Make your fair virtues and your fame your mistress, And let these trinkets go.
Rur/. You teach well, nephew : Now to be honourable ' even with this gentleman, Shall be my business, and my ends his. ^Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — The same.. An apartment in the Palace.
Enter the Governor of Ternata disguised as before, and the King of
Tidore.
G. of Tern. Sir, sir, you must do something suddenly, To stop his pride, so great and high he is shot up ; Upon his person too ; your state is sunk else : You must not stand now upon terms of gratitude, And let a simple tenderness besot you. I '11 bring you suddenly where you shall see him, Attempting your brave sister, privately ; Mark but his high behaviour then.
K. of Ti. I will, fatlier.
G. of Tern. And with scorn ; I fear, contempt too.
K of Ti. I hope not.
G. of Tern. I will not name a lust ; it may be that also. A little force must be applied upon him,
' honourable] " I have, I believe, shewn before, that our authors take the same liberty in our language that the Greeks and Latins do in theirs, viz. of using an adjective adverbially : so at the end almost of this play we have the same license took again ;
' Which way you go, sir, I must follow uecessari/ ', i. <•. necessarily." Sympso.n. True : but I doubt if in the present i>asbage the reading of the second folio, " honourably ", be not the right one.
scK.NK V.J THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 491
Now, now applied, a little force to humble him : These sweet entreaties do but make him wanton.
A', of Ti. Take heed you wrong him not.
G. of Tern. Take heed to your safety : I but forewarn you, king ; if you mistrust me, Or think I come unsent
A', of Ti. No, I 'll go with you. \_Exeunf.
SCENE V. — The same. A (jardeii belonging to the Palace.
Enter Armusia and Qtjisara.
Arm. Madam, you see there 's nothing I can reach at. Either in my obedience or my service, That may deserve your love or win a liking, Not ^ a poor thought but I pursue it seriously, Take pleasure in your wills, even in your anger, Which other men would grudge at, and grow stormy : I study new humility to please you, And take a kind of joy in my afflictions ; Because they come from you, I love my sorrows. Pray, madam, but consider
Quisara. Yes, I do, sir; And 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.
Arm. If ever love was mortal, And dwelt in man : and for that love command me (So strong I find it, and so true, here, lady) Something of such a greatness to allow me \
' Xol] Both the folios " But " ; and so the modei'ii editoi'S, though Sympsou suggested that " Not " might be the true reading ; which it certainly is : the words but and tiot are very frequently confounded by our early printers. ' and for that love command me
{So strong I find it, and so true, here, lady)
Something of such a greatness to alloio me, &c.] " We should read —
' Something of such a greatness too, allow nie '.
That is, let me not only receive your commands, but let them be of such mag-
492 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act iv.
Those things I have done already may seem foils to : ""T is equity, that man aspires to Heaven Should win it by his worth, and not sleep to it.
Enter, behind, the Governor of Ternata disguised as before, and the King of Tidore.
G. of Tern. Now stand close, king, and hear ; and, as you find him. Believe me right, or let religion suffer.
Quisara. I dare believe your worth, without additions ; But, since you are so liberal of your love, sir. And would be farther tried, I do intend it, Because you shall not, or you would not, win me At such an easy rate.
Arm. I am prepar'd still, And, if I shrink
Quisara. I know you are no coward : This is the utmost trial of your constancy ; And, if you stand fast now, I am yours, your wife, sir. You hold there 's nothing dear, that may atchieve me, Doubted, or dangerous ?
Arm. There 's nothing, nothing : Let me but know, that I may straight fly to it.
Quisara. I '11 tell you, then : change your religion. And be of one belief with me.
Arm. How !
Quisara. Mark : Worship our gods, renounce that faith you are bred in, ('T is easily done, I '11 teach you suddenly,) And humbly on your knees
nitude and difficulty, that my former actions shall appear as foils to set them off. Both the sense and grammar require this amendment. To allow here means to appoint or allot." Mason, — whose alteration was adopted by Weber. But nothing can be plainer than that the construction is, " Command me some- thing", i. e. command me to do something ; and it is equally evident tliat " ff such a greatness to allow me " means — of such a magnitude to approve me, — prove me worthy of approbation. Allow in the sense of approve is very common in early writers : see Steevens's note on Shakespeare's K. Lear, act ii. sc. 4. So, too, in the preceding play ;
" no spark of nature Allows him [i. o. proves him worthy to bej mine now." p. 321. iuid SCO lVi( u'iihoul Money, vol. iv. 150.
soENEv.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 493
Arm. Ha ! I '11 bo hangM first.
Quisara. Offer as we do.
Ann. To the devil, lady ! Offer to him I hate ! I know the devil ! To dogs and cats ! you make offer to them ", To every bird that flies, and every worm. — How terribly I shake ! — Is this the venture, The trial that you talk'd of? — Where have I been, And how forgot myself, how lost my memory ? When did I pray, or look up stedfastly, Had any goodness in my heart to guide me, That I should give this vantage to mine enemy, The enemy to my peace ? Forsake my faith !
Quisara. Come, come ; I know you love me.
Ann. Love you this way ! This most destroying way ! sure, you but jest, lady.
Quisara. My love and life are one way.
Arm. Love alone, then — And mine another way : I '11 love diseases first, Dote on a villain that would cut my throat, Woo all afflictions of all sorts, kiss Cruelty. — Have mercy, Heaven ! how have I been wandering, Wandering the way of lust, and left my Maker ! How have I slept like cork upon a water, And had no feeling of the storm that tossM me ! Trod the blind paths of Death ! forsook assurance, Eternity of blessedness, for a woman ! For a young handsome face, hazard my being !
Quisai'a. Are not our powers eternal, so their comforts As great and full of hopes as yours ?
Arm. They are puppets
G. of Tern. Now mark him, sir, and but observe him nearly.
A7'm. Their comfoi'ts like themselves, cold, senseless out- sides ; You make 'em sick, as we are, peevish, mad, Subject to age : and how can they cure us. That are not able to refine themselves ?
" you make offer to them] Synipson proposed to read " you make me offer to them ? " The Editors of 1778 printed "you do make offer to them ".
494 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act iv
Qidsara. The sun and moon we worship (those are hea- venly), And their bright influences we beheve.
An7i. Away, fool ! 1 adore the Maker of that sun and moon, That gives those bodies light and influence, That pointed out their paths, and taught their motions : They are not so great as we ; they are our servants, Plac'd there to teach us time, to give us knowledge Of when and how the swellings of the main ai'e. And their returns again ; they are but our stewards To make the earth fat with their influence, That she may bring forth her increase, and feed us. Shall I fall from this faith to please a woman I For her embraces bring my soul to ruin ? I lookM you should have said, " Make me a Christian ; Work that great cure " ; for 't is a great one, woman ; That labour truly to perform, that venture. The crown of all great trial, and the fairest ; I look'd you should have wept and kneelM to beg it, WashM off" your mist of ignorance with waters
Pure and repentant from those eyes ; I look'd
You should have brought me j^our chief god ye worship,
He that you offer human blood and life to,
And made a sacrifice of him to memorv.
Beat down his altars, ruin'd his false temples. G. of Tern. Now you may see. Quisara. Take heed ; you go too far, sir. —
And yet I love to hear him [Aside]. — I must have you.
And to that end I let you storm a little :
T know there must be some strife in your bosom
To cool and quiet you, ere you can come back ;
I know old friends cannot part suddenly ;
There will be some let '' still : yet I must have you,
Have you of my faith too, and so enjoy you. Arm. Now I contemn you : and 1 hate myself
For looking on that face lasciviously ;
And it looks ugly now methinks.
" /«?/] i. e. hindrance, stop.
SCENE v.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 495
Qia'sara. How, Portugal !
Ann. It looks like Death itself, to which 'twould lead me : Your eyes resemble pale Despair ; they fright me ; And in their rounds a thousand horrid ruins Methinks I see ; and in your tongue hear fearfully The hideous murmurs of weak souls have 6uffer''d . Get from me ! I despise you : and know, woman, That for nil "' this trap you have laid to catch my life in, To catch my immortal life ", I hate and curse you, Contemn your deities, spurn at their powers, And where I meet your maumet-gods ^', I '11 swing 'em Thus o'er my head, and kick 'em into puddles ; Nay, I will out of vengeance search your temples, And, with those hearts that servo my God, demolisli Your shambles of wild worships.
G. of Tern. Now, now you hear, sir.
Arm. I will have my faith, since you are so crafty. The glorious Cross, although I love your brother ; Let him frown too, I will have my devotion, And let your whole state storm.
A', nf Ti. Enter, and take him !
[To Guards ivWiin, who enter and seize Armusia. I am sorry, friend, that I am forcM to do this.
G. of Tern. Be sure you bind him fast.
dnisara. But use him nobly.
A', of Ti. Had it to me been done, I had forgiven it, And still preserv'd you fair ; but to our gods, sir —
Quisara. Methinks I hate 'em now. \_Aside,
K. of Ti. To our religion, To these to be thus stubborn, thus rebellious. To threaten them
Arm. Use all your violence : T ask no mercy, nor repent my words ;
" n//] Mason would omit this word.
* life'] Weber chose to print " soul " ! !
y vmumet-ffods] i. e. idol-gods, puppet-gods. (At page 493, Armusia calls them "puppets".) So the first folio. -r- The second folio has " Mahuniet gods". — The word rnaumet (spelt also mmvmel, mawmctit, inammet, mammot, and common in writers long anterior to Fletcher) is a corruption of Mahomet.
496 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act v.
I spit at your best powers ; I serve one
Will give me strength to scourge your gods
G. of Tern. Away with him !
Ar7n. To grind ""em into base dust, and disperse 'em, That never more their bloody memories
G. of Tern. Clap him close up.
K. of Ti. Good friend, be cooler.
Arm. Never : Your painted sister I despise too
K. of Ti. Softly !
Arm. And all her devilish arts [I] laugh and scorn at, Mock her blind purposes.
K. of Ti. You must be temperate. — Offer him no violence, I command you strictly.
G. of Tern. Now thou art up, I shall have time to speak too. [Aside.
Quisara. Oh, how I love this man, how truly honour him !
[Aside. [Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. — Tidore. Before the Portuguese Fort.
Enter, on one side., Christophero and Pedro, on the other, Emanuel and Soza.
Christ. Do you know the news, gentlemen I
Eman. Would we knew as well, sir, How to prevent it !
Soza. Is this the love they bear us For our late benefit ? taken so maliciously. And clapt up close ! is that the thanks they render ?
Christ. It must not be put up thus, smother'd slightly ; T 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 ;
SCENE I.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 497
But if we be ourselves, honest and resolute,
And continue but masters of our ancient courages,
Stick close, and give no vantage to their villanies
Soza. Nay, if we faint or fall a-pieces now, We are fools, and worthy to be mark'd for misery. Begin to strike at him they are all bound to ! To cancel his deserts ! what must we look for, If they can carry this ?
Email. I '11 carry coals ^, then. I have but one life, and one fortune, gentlemen, But I '11 so husband it to vex these rascals, These barbarous slaves
Christ. Shall we go charge 'em presently ;
Soza. No, that will be too weak, and too fool-hardy ; We must have grounds that promise safety, friends, And sure offence ; we lose our angers else. And, worse than that, venture our lives too lightly.
Enter Piniero ^,
Pill. Did you see mine uncle ? — Plague o' these barbarians ! How the rogues stick in my teeth ! — I know ye are angry : So I am too, monstrous angry, gentlemen ; I am angry, that I choke again : You hear Arrausia 's up, honest Armusia, Clapt up in prison, friends, the brave Armusia ? Here are fine boys !
Eman. We hope he shall not stay there.
Pin. Stay ! no, he must not stay ; no talk of staying ; These are no times to stay. Are not these rascals I Speak, I beseech ye speak, are they not rogues ? Think some abominable names — are they not devils ? But the devil 's a great deal too good for 'em — fusty villains !
' ril carry coals'] Equivalent to — I '11 put up with any insult or degradation. In the royal residences and great houses, the lowest drudges appear to have been selected to carry coals to the kitchens, halls, &c. ; see note on Jonson's Works, ii. 169, by Gifford, who afterwards (p. 179) observes, " From the mean nature of this occupation it seems to have been somewhat hastily concluded, that a man who would carry coals would submit to any indignity."
* Fiiiiero] Weber added " iiith his su-ord drawn," on account of P.'s thiid speech, next page. But the "physic" there mentioned seems to be some kind of ammunition.
VOL. VXI. K K
498 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act v.
Christ. They are a kind of hounds.
Pin. Hounds were their fathers, Old blear-ey'd bob-tail'd hounds. — Lord, where 's my uncle?
Soza. But ^ what shall be done, sir ?
Pm. Done !
Soza. Yes, to relieve him ? If it be not sudden, they may take his life too.
Pin. They dare as soon take fire and swallow it, Take stakes and thrust into their tails for glysters : His life ! why, 't is a thing worth all the islands, And they know will be rated at that value ; His very imprisonment will make the town stink, And shake and stink : I have physic in my hand for 'em Shall give the goblins such a purge
Pedro. Your uncle.
Enter Ruy Dias.
Rut/. I hear strange news, and have been seeking you ; They say Armusia 's prisoner.
Pill. 'T is most certain.
Mu7/. Upon what cause ?
Pi7i. He has deserv'd too much, sir ; The old heathen policy has light ^ upon him. And paid him home.
Rui/. A most unnoble dealing !
Pi7i. You are the next, if you can carry it tamely. He has deserv'd of all.
Rut/. I must confess it ; Of me so nobly too !
Pin. I am glad to hear it : You have a time now to make good your confession, (Your faith will shew but cold else, and for fashion,) Now to redeem all, now to thank his courtesy, Now to make those believe, that held you backward And an ill instrument, you are a gentleman, An honest man, and you dare love your nation, Dare stick to virtue, though she be opprest. And, for her own fair sake, stop to her rescue :
" But] Silently omitted by Weber.
•> liffhfj i. e. lit (as at p. 300). The Editors of 1 778 and Weber printed " lit."
SCENE II.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 499
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.
llmj. I thank you, nephew. — Come along with me, gentle- men ; We '11 make 'em dancing sport immediately : AVe are masters of the fort yet ; we shall see What that can do.
Pin. Let it but spit fire finely, And play their turrets and their painted palaces A frisking roimd or two, that they may trip it. And caper in the air.
Ruy. Come ; we '11 do something Shall make 'em look about ; wc '11 send 'em plums, If they be not too hard for their teeth.
Pin. And fine potatoes Roasted in gunpowder : such a banquet, sir, We '11 ^ prepare their immannerly stomachs
Ruy. They shall see There is no safe retreat in villany. Come ; be high-hearted all.
All. We are all on fire, sir. \_Exeunt.
SCENE II.— The same. A hall in the Palace.
Enter the King of Tidore, the Governor of Ternata disguised as he/ore., and Attendants.
K. of Ti. I am ungrateful, and a wretch, — persuade me not, — Forgetful ^ of the mercy he sliew'd mo. The timely noble pity. Why should I See him fast bound and fetter'd, whose true courtesy, Whose manhood, and whoso mighty hand set me free ! Why should it come from mo ? why I command this ? Shall not all tongues and truths call me unthankful I
G. of Tern. Had the offence been thrown on you, 't is certain It had been in your power and your discretion
' We 7/] Both the foUos " Will."
'' Forgetful, &c.] I may just observe, that this line is not unnictrical, if an emphasis be laid on the word " me."
K K 2
500 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act v.
To have turn'd it into mercy, and forgiven it,
And then it had shew'd a virtuous point of gratitude,
Timely and nobly taken ; but, since the cause
Concerns the honour of our gods and their title,
And so transcends your power and your compassion,
(A little your own safety, if you saw it too,
If your too-fond indulgence did not dazzle you,)
It cannot now admit a private pity ;
'Tis in their wills, their mercies, or revenges,
And these revolts in you shew mere rebellious''.
K. of Ti. They are mild and pitiful.
G. of Tern. To those repent.
K. of Ti. Their nature 's soft and tender.
G. of Tern. To true hearts, That feel compunction for their trespasses : This man defies 'em still, threatens destruction And demolition of their arms ^ and worship, Spits at their powers. Take heed you be not found, sir. And mark'd a favourer of their dishonour : They use no common justice.
K. of Ti. What shall I do To deserve of this man ?
G. of Tern, If you more bemoan him, Or mitigate your power to preserve him, I '11 curse you from the gods, call up their vengeance, And fling it on your land and you : I have charge for 't. — I hope to wreck you all. [Aside.
Enter Quisara with her hands bound, Quisana, and Panura.
K. of Ti. What ails my sister I Why is she bound ? why looks she so distractedly ? Who dares f do this ?
Q.^iisana. We did it, — pardon, sir, — And for her preservation : she is grown wild. And, raving on the stranger's love and honour. Sometimes crying out, " Help, help ! they will torture him,
■* mere rebellious] " i. e. merely, absolutely rebellious." Weber. '• urjns] Syinpson proposed to read "nanus." Heath (AJS. Notes) conjec- tures « fanes." f dares'] Both the folios " does."
SCENE II.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 501
They will take his life, they will murder him presently !" If we had not prevented, violently Had *^ laid hands on her own life.
G. of Tern. These are tokens The gods' displeasure is gone out : be quick, And, ere it fall, do something to appease 'em ; You know the sacrifice. — I am glad it works thus. \^ Aside.
Qidsara. How low and base thou look'st now, that wert noble ! No figure of a king, methinks, shews on you, No face of majesty : foul swarth ingratitude Has taken off thy sweetness ; base forgetfulness Of mighty benefits has turned thee devil : Thou hast persecuted goodness, innocence, And laid a hard and violent hand on virtue, On that fair virtue that should teach and guide us ; Thou hast wrong'd thine own preserver, whose least merit, Pois'd with thy main estate, thou canst not satisfy; Nay, put thy life in too, "'twill be too light still. What hast thou done ?
G. of Tern. Go for him presently ;
\_Exeunt Attendants on a sign from the King. And once more we '11 try if we can win him fairly ; If not, let nothing she says hinder you or stir you ; She speaks distractedly: do that the gods command you. — Do you know what you say, lady ?
(Xuisara. I could curse thee too : Religion and severity has steeFd thee, Has turn''d thy heart to stone ; thou hast made the gods
hard too, Against their sweet and patient natures, cruel. None of ye feel what bravery ye tread on, What innocence, what beauty !
K. of Ti. Pray, be patient.
Qidsara. What honourable things ye cast behind ye, What monuments of man !
' //ad] Mason's correction. Botli the folios "Have" ; and so Sympson ; so too the Editors of 1778, wlio say that "something (perhajis a whdlc Hnc) seems lost here." Heath (MS. Notes) proposes " Would have".
502 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act v.
Enter Armusia and Guard.
K. of Ti. Once more, Armusia, Because I love you tenderly and dearly. And would be glad to win you mine, I wish you, Even from my heart I wish and woo you
Ar7jf. What, sir I Take heed how you persuade me falsely ; then you hate me ; Take heed how you entrap me.
K. of Ti. I advise you, And tenderly and truly I advise you, Both for your souPs health and your safety —
Arm. Stay ; And name my soul no more ; she is too precious, Too glorious for your flatteries, too secure too.
G. of Tern. Consider the reward, sir, and the honour That is prepared, the glory you shall grow to.
Arm. They are not to be consider'd in these cases, Not to be nam'd ; when souls are questioned, They are vain and flying vapours. Touch my life, 'Tis ready for ye ; put it to what test It shall please ye, I am patient ; but for the rest, You may remove rocks with your little fingers, Or blow a mountain out o' the way with bellows. As soon as stir my faith : use no more arguments.
G. of Tern. We must use tortures, then.
Arm. Your worst and painfuU'st I am joyful to accept.
G. of Tern. You must the sharpest, For such has been your hate against our deities, DeliverM openly, your threats and scornings ; And either your repentance must be mighty, Which is your free conversion to our customs. Or equal punishment, which is your life, sir.
Arm. I am glad I have it for ye ; take it, priest. And all the miseries that shall attend it : Let the gods glut themselves with Christian blood ; It will be ask'd again, and so far follow'd. So far reveng'd, and with such holy justice,
SCENE II.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 503
Your gods of gold shall melt and sink before it ; Your altars and your temples shake to nothing ; And you, false worshippers, blind fools of ceremony, Shall seek for holes to hide your heads and fears in, For seas to swallow you from this destruction, Darkness to dwell about ye, and conceal ye, Your mothers' wombs again
G. of Tern. JNIake the fires ready, And bring the several tortures out !
Quisara. Stand fast, sir, And fear 'em not : you that have stept so nobly Into this pious trial, start not now ; Keep on your way ; a virgin will assist you, A virgin won by your fair constancy, And, glorying that she is won so, will die by you : I have touch'd you every way, tried you most honest. Perfect, and good, chaste, blushing-chaste, and temperate, Yaliant without vain-glory, 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 ? [Aside.
AVhat do you infer by this fair argument, lady ?
Quisara. Your ftiith and your religion must be like you ; They, that can shew you these, must be pure mirrors : When the streams flow clear and fair, what are the fountains ? I do embrace your faith, sir, and your fortune : Go on ; I will assist you ; I feel a sparkle here, A lively spark that kindles my affection. And tells me it will rise to flames of glory : Let 'em put on their angers : suffer nobly ; Shew me the way, and, when I faint, instruct me ; And, if I follow not
Arm. Oh, blessed lady. Since thou art won, let me begin my triumph ! — Come, clap your terrors on.
Quisara. All your fell tortures ; For there is nothing he shall suffer, brother.
504 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act v.
I swear by my new faiths (which is most sacred, 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.
G. of Tern. 'Death I she amazes me. \^As'ule.
K. of Ti. What shall be done now I
G. of Tern. They must die both, And suddenly; they will corrupt all else. — This woman makes me weary of my mischief; She shakes me, and she staggers me [Aside]. — Go in, sir; I '11 see the execution.
K. of Ti. Not so sudden : If they go, all my friends and sisters perish.
G. of Tern. Would I were safe at home again ! {_ Aside.
Enter IMessenger. Mess. Arm, arm, sir ! Seek for defence ; the castle plays and thunders, The town rocks, and the houses fly i' th' air, The people die for fear. Captain Ruy Dias Has made an oath he will not leave a stone here, No, not the memory here has stood a city. Unless Armusia be deliverM fairly.
K. of Ti. I have my fears : what can our gods do now
for us ? G. of Tern. Be patient : but keep him still ; he is a cure, sir, Against both rage and cannon. Go and fortify ; Call in the princes 'S make the palace sure. And let ^em know you are a king ; look nobly, And take your courage to you. Keep close the prisoner. And under command ; we are betray Vl else. Arm. How joyfully I go ! Quisnra. Take my heart with thee.
G. of Tern. I hold a wolf by the ear now : Fortune, free me ! \_ Aside.
[Exeimt.
K hy my neiv faith] The first folio has " by new faith ". The second reads " hy a new faith". ^ piiuces] Tlie folios " Princesse " and " Princess."
SCENE III] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 505
SCENE III. — The same. A street. Firing of cannon xoithin.
Enter four Townsmen.
First Toions. Heaven bless us, what a thundering 's here ! what fire-spitting ! We cannot drink but our cans are niaul'd amongst us.
Sec. Toions. I would they would maul our scores too ! Shame o'' their guns ! I thought they had been bird-pots, or great candle-cases : How devilishly they bounce, and how the bullets Borrow a piece of a house here, there another, And mend those up again with another parish ! Here flies a powdering-tub", the meat ready roasted, And there a barrel pissing vinegar ; And they two, over-taking the top of a high steeple
Newly slic'd off" for aJ sallad
Third Toicns. A vengeance fire 'em !
Sec. Toicns. Nay, they fire ftist enough ; you need not
help 'em. Fourth Towns. Are these the Portugal bulls? how loud
they bellow ! Sec. Towns. Their horns are plaguy strong; they push down palaces ; They toss our little habitations,
Like whelps, like grindle-tails'S with their heels upward ; All the windows i' the town dance a new trenchmore ', —
' a powdering -tub'\ i. e. a vessel in which meat is powdered or salted.
J o] Omitted by Weber.
^ grindle-taUs'] Nares, on the authority of the present passage, gives ; " Grindle-tail. Like trundlc-tail ; meaning, I presume, curling tail. Possibly from a grlndle-stone, or grind-stone, which is round." Gloss, in v. Richardson also cites the present passage in his Diet, under Grind. Trindle-tail has already occurred in The Honest Man''s Fortune, act v. sc. 3., vol. iii. 438 ; and is found also in Love's Cure, act iii. sc. >S.
' trencfimore'] Was a dance of a boisterous description performed to a lively tune. It is very frequently mentioned by our early writers. " The Court of England," says .Selden, " is much alter'd. At a solemn Dancing, first you had the grave Measures, then the Corrantocs and the Galliards, and this is kept up [read
506 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act v.
'Tis like to prove a blessed age for glaziers : I met a hand, and a letter in 't, in great haste, 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.
First Toivns. What shall we do ?
Sec. Toiims. I care not ; my shop 's cancell'd, And all the pots and earthen pans in 't vanish'd : There was a single bullet and they together by the ears ; You would have thought Tom Tumbler had been there, And all his troop '" of devils.
Third Towns. Let 's to the king, And get this gentleman delivered handsomely : By this hand, there 's no walking above ground else.
Sec. Tonms. By this leg", (let me swear nimbly by it, For I know not how long I shall owe° it,) if I were Out o' the town once, if I came in again To fetch my breakfast, I will give 'em leave To cram me with a Portugal pudding. Come, Let us do any thing to appease this thunder, \^Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — The same. Before the Portuguese Fort. Enter Piniero and Panura. Pin. A rt sure it was that blind priest I Pan. Yes, most certain ; He has provok'd all this : the king is merciful. And wondrous loving ; but he fires him on still,
— this kept up] with Ceremouy ; at length to Tre7ich9nore,and the Cushiou-Dance; and then all the Company dances, Lord and Groom, Lady and Kitchen-Maid, no Distinction. So in our Court, in Queen EUzabeth's time, Gravity and State were kept up. In King James's time things were pretty well. But in King Charles's time, there has been nothing but Trenchmore and the Cushion-Dance, otnnium ffathcrum, tolly polly, hoite come toite." Tahle-Talk (under King of England), p. 83, ed. 1696. The music of Trenchmore may be seen in Chappell's Nat. English Airs, i. 112 (No. 238).
'" troop'\ Sympsou silently printed " troops " ; and so his successors.
" leg'\ After this word, both the folios have a short break (perhaps to mark the omission of " pox " ).
o owe] " i. 0. own." Ed. 1778.
SCENE IV.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 507
And, when he cools, enrages him ; T know it ; Threatens new vengeance and the gods' fierce justice, When he but looks with fair eyes on Armusia ; Will lend him no time to relent. My royal mistress, She has entertain'd a Christian hope.
Pin. Speak truly.
Pan. Nay, 'tis most true ; but. Lord, how he lies at her. 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. I '11 kiss thee for this news ; nay, more, Panura, If thou wilt give me leave, I '11 get thee with Christian, The 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 through a private vault, which few there know of; It rises in a temple not far hence. Close by the castle here.
Pin. How ! to what end I
Pan. A good one ; To give you knowledge of my new-born mistress, And in what doubt Armusia stands : Think any present means or hope to stop 'em From their fell ends. The princes are come in too, And they are harden'd also.
Pin. The damn'd priest
Pan. Sure, he 's a cruel man : methinks religion Should teach more temperate lessons.
Pin. He the firebrand ! He dare to touch at such fair lives as theirs are ! Well, prophet, I shall prophesy ^ I shall catch you, When all your prophecies will not redeem you. — Wilt thou do one thing bravely ?
Pan. Any good I am able.
Pin. And, by thine own white hand, I '11 swear thou art virtuous,
1' / xhull propfieiif] Mason believes that wc should read '•' / do prophesy."
508 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act v.
And a brave wencli. Durst thou but guide me presently, Through the same vault thou cam'st, into the palace, And those I shall appoint, such as I think fit ?
Pan. Yes, I will do it, and suddenly and truly.
Pin. I would fain behold this prophet.
Pan. Now^ I have you, And shall bring you where you shall behold him, Alone too, and unfurnish'd of defences ; That shall be ray care : but you must not betray me.
Pin. Dost thou think we are so base, such slaves, rogues ?
Pan. I do not ; And you shall see how fairly I '11 work for ye.
Pin. I must needs steal that priest, steal him, and hang him.
Pan. Do any thing to remove his mischief ; strangle him.
Pin. Come, prithee, love.
Pan. You '11 offer me no foul play I The vault is dark.
Pin. ""Twas well rememberM.
Pan. And you may — But I hold you honest.
Pin. Honest enough, I warrant thee.
Pan. I am but a poor weak wench ; and what with the place, And your persuasions, sir — but I hope you will not — You know we are often cozenM.
Pin, If thou dost fear me, Why dost thou put me in mind I
Pan. To let you know, sir. Though it be in your power, and things fitting to it. Yet a true gentleman
Pin. I know what he '11 do : Come, and remember me, and I '11 answer thee, I '11 answer thee to the full : we '11 call at the castle ; And then, my good guide, do thy will ; ""sha't find me A very tractable man.
Pan. I hope I shall, sir. {^Exeunt.
SCENE v.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 509
SCENE Y.—The same. Before the Palace.
Enter, lelow, the King of Bakam, the Prince of Syana, and Soldiers.
K. of Bali. Let my men guard the gates.
P. of Sy. And mine the temple, For fear the honour of our gods should suffer : And, on your lives, be watchful.
K. of Bah. And be valiant; And let 's see, if these Portugals dare enter, What their high hearts dare do : let 's see how readily The great Ruy Dias will redeem his countryman 'J ; *
He speaks proud words, and threatens.
P. of Sy. He is approved'', sir, And will put fair for what he promises. I could wish friendlier terms ; yet, for our liberties And for our gods, we are bound in our best service, Even in the hazard of our lives.
Enter the King of Tidore on a balcony of the Palace. K. of Ti. Come up, princes, And give your counsels and your helps : the fort still Plays fearfully upon us, beats our buildings, And turns our people wild with fears.
K. of Bak. Send for the prisoner. And give us leave to argue.
YExit into the Palace loith Prince of Syana.
Enter, leloio, Ruy Dias, Emanuel, Christopuero, and Pedro, icith Soldiers.
Ray. Come on nobly. And let the fort play still; we are strong enough To look upon 'em, and return at pleasure : It may be, on our view they will return him.
Christ. We will return 'em such thanks else, shall make 'em Scratch where it itches not.
Eman. How the people stare !
•> countryman'^ Both the folios "cown/r^y-men." ■■ approv'd] i. e. proved — of tried prowess.
510 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act v.
And some^ cry, some pray, and some curse heartily ; But it is the king
Enter, above, King of Bakam, Prince of Syana, Quisara, and Armusia chained, icith Soldiers.
Ruy. I cannot blame their wisdoms. They are all above ; Armusia chain'd and bound too ! Oh, these are thankful squires !
K. of Bak. Hear us, Ruy 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 Armusia''s head goes off. As suddenly as said.
Eman. Stay, sir ; be moderate.
Arm. Do nothing that 's dishonourable, Ruy Dias ; Let not the fear of me master thy valour : Pursue 'em still ; they are base malicious people.
K. of Ti. Friend, be not desperate.
Ann. I scorn your courtesies : Strike when you dare ! — A fair aim * guide the gunner, And may he let fly still with fortune ! Friend, Do me the honour of a soldier's funerals ^', The last fair Christian rite ; see me i' the ground, And let the palace burn first, then the temples, And on their scorned gods erect my monument : Touch not the princess, as you are a soldier.
Quisara. Which way you go, sir, I must follow necessary ; One life and one death.
K. of Ti. Will you take a truce yet I
Enter, lelow, Piniero, Soza, and Soldiers with the Governor of Ternata disguised as before. Pin. No, no ; go on. — Look here ; your god, your prophet ! A', of Ti. How came he taken ?
' And some, &c.] In this line Sympson silently omitted the fii-st " and ", Weber the second.
' aim~\ Sympson's correction.— The folios "arme" and "arm". See my Remarks on Mr. Collier's and Mr. KnighCs editions of Shakespeare, p. 152.
" funerals] See note, vol. v. 298.
SCENE v.] THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 511
Pin. I conjur'd for him, king : I am a sure cur at an old blind prophet ; I '11 hunt " you such a false knave admirably ; A terrier I ; I earth'd him, and then snapt him,
Soza. Saving the reverence of your grace, we stole him, 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
I '11 tear him thus before you.
\^PhIIs off the false beard and hair of the Governor of Ternata.
Ha ! what art thou I
K. of Ti. How 's this ! art thou a prophet ?
Rwj. Come down, princes.
K. of Ti. We are abus'd. — Oh, my most dear Armusia ! — Off with his chains! — And now, my noble sister, Rejoice with me ; I know you are pleas'd as 1 am.
[_Exennt all above.
Pin. This is a precious prophet ! — Why, Don Governor, What make you here ? how long have you taken orders I
Hit?/. Why, what a wretch art thou to work this mischief ! To assume this holy shape to ruin honour, Honour and chastity !
Enter, below, the King of Tidore, the King of Bakam, the Prinoe of Syana, Quisara, Armusia, and Soldiers.
G. of Tern. I had paid you all, But Fortune play'd the slut. Come, give me my doom.
K. of Ti. I cannot speak for wonder.
G. of Tern. Nay, 't is I, sir ; And here I stay your sentence.
K. of Ti. Take her, friend, (You have half persuaded me to be a Christian,) And with her all the joys, and all the blessings ! Why, what dream have we dwelt in ?
liny. All peace to ye. And all the happiness of heart dwell with ye ! Children as sweet and noble as their parents
" hnnti Sympson's coiTection. — Both the folios "haunt".
512 THE ISLAND PRINCESS. [act v.
Phi. And kings at least !
Ai'm. Good sir, forget my rashness ; And, noble princes"', for I was once angry, And out of that might utter some distemper, Think not 'tis my nature.
P. of aSt/. Your joy is ours, sir ; And nothing we find in you but most noble.
K. of Ti. To prison with this dog ! there let him howl. And, if he can repent, sigh out his villanies ! His island we shall seize into our hands ; His father and himself have both usurped it, And kept it by oppression : the town and castle. In which I lay myself most miserable, Till my most honourable friend redeem'd me, Signior Piniero, I bestow on you ; The rest of next command upon these gentlemen ; Upon ye all, my love.
Arm. Oh, brave Ruy Dias, You have started now beyond me ! I must thank you, And thank you for my life, my wife, and honour.
Ruy. I am glad I had her for you, sir.
K. of Ti. Come, princes ; Come, friends and lovers all ; come, noble gentlemen ; No more guns now, nor hates, but joys and triumphs ! An universal gladness fly about us ! And know, however subtle men dare cast " And promise wreck, the gods give peace at last. \_Exeiint.
" princes'^ The first folio has " Princesse ", the second foUo " Princesses ". " The fii'st copy surely is right, Armusia meaning to apologise for his passionate language, in a former scene, to Quisara." Ed. 1778. " The answer of the Prince of Syaua evidently proves the propriety of [Sympson and] Seward's reading. The same corruption has occurred before iu this very play, and is also found in A Wife for a Month, and several others." Weber.
* casf^ i. e. contx'ive, plot.
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